Bound
by TwistedProse
Summary: Gaara Sabaku is a troubled recluse, but when an equally troubled Hinata Hyuga is employed as his housekeeper, he soon realizes he may have met his match in more ways than one. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Hinata Hyuga's calm exterior belied the irritation that coursed through her. She inwardly bristled as her younger sister, Hanabi, leisurely paced about the kitchen of her small apartment in heels that clicked loudly against the worn tile floor. It seemed no object was spared Hanabi's scrutiny as she lifted a knick knack here or there to slowly turn it about in her hands before replacing it to move on to the next. Her perfectly arched brows rose in condemnation as she slid her fingers along the surface of some piece of furniture before rubbing them together disapprovingly. It was a look Hinata was all too fond of as she had been the recipient of it more times than she cared to recall, and her own eyes remained impassive as she averted her gaze to the rainstorm that unfolded outside the kitchen window.

It was early that morning when Hanabi had come around with a possible job lead she felt Hinata might be interested in. Hanabi hadn't lived nearby, so Hinata couldn't understand why her younger sister had bothered driving so far out of her way just to relay such information that could have easily been communicated over the phone. She couldn't help but feel Hanabi had an underlying motive for wanting to see her face to face. She'd even had an idea as to what it was her younger sibling wanted to speak to her about, so when Hanabi had entered her home, it was all Hinata could do to check the exasperation in her voice when she greeted her sibling.

As if she'd grown bored with her perusal, Hanabi eventually resumed her seat at the small table in the center of the kitchen with a sigh. "Nice to see nothing's changed," she said in a mocking tone. Her eyes briefly swept the shabby interior of the cramped kitchen. It had been seven years since Hinata had left home and took up residence in the dilapidated apartment furnished with second hand furniture that wasn't fit for any Hyuga, and everything still managed to look the same.

The once soft cream color of the wallpaper decorated with small red flowers had eventually faded beneath prolonged exposure to the sunlight when it poured in through the large window over the sink. Although spotlessly maintained by routine cleanings Hinata habitually subjected it to, it was to no avail and still began to peel with time. A large, ivory hutch claimed the majority of the space of the wall across from the sink. The paint of its old wooden surface was now chipped and discolored, and the ornate handles were the only testaments of its former beauty. Behind the glass doors, the top shelf housed a multi-colored collection of neatly organized hardback cookbooks. Although a few of them had belonged to their late mother, the majority of them had been salvaged from second hand stores or yard sales, their spines worn and barely containing the pages within. A variety of herbs and seasonings, many of which Hinata had grown herself, were stored in an assortment of glass jars and reused tins in various shapes, sizes, and colors on other shelves below. Table linens that had been laundered and neatly folded were stored in a trio of drawers at the bottom.

A small, four burner gas stove sat along the wall adjacent to the hutch. Its gleaming white surface contradicted what Hinata knew to be fact, that it was put to regular use. For as far back as she could remember, Hinata had not only always excelled at cooking, but she enjoyed it. Even now as Hanabi sat at the table, the same off color, ivory hue as the hutch, the tantalizing aroma of some previously prepared meal - undoubtedly dinner, as Hinata had yet to prepare breakfast - still permeated the air; that and the smell of the pot of freshly brewed coffee she had prepared upon Hanabi's arrival.

Hanabi sipped at the mug of coffee. It had grown cool from neglect, so she set it down and gently eased it aside. The sound of a nearby train as it passed by nearly made her jump from her chair and scream with fright, but she maintained her composure as the noise of its loud engine as it roared by on the tracks vibrated through Hinata's apartment and caused it shake violently. Even the dishes rattled where they sat in the cabinets. And Hinata had remained oblivious of it all, as if it had been the most normal of occurrences. Hanabi shifted uncomfortably beneath the air of poverty that continued to hang around her like an unwelcome cloud. She really had to get out of here before it permeated her clothing and lingered like stale cigarette smoke, but not without saying what she had to. Folding her hands on the table's cracked surface, she lifted her eyes to Hinata's still averted gaze and frowned as she noted her older sister's red and blotchy complexion.

"You've been drinking again," Hanabi observed flatly. She sighed with irritation when Hinata's head lowered. The movement caused her hair to fall forward and shield her face like a drawn curtain. "Anyway," Hanabi continued, "I just want you to know that the offer still stands." She knew she hadn't needed to say more, that Hinata understood what she meant.

Hinata's eyes fluttered closed behind the ebony veil of her hair. It was as she'd thought. Hanabi had come to persuade her to move back into the family's home… _again_. She didn't know whether to be pleased at her perception or annoyed at Hanabi's persistence. "Y-you already know m-my answer," she objected, stuttering in a voice that was soft and firm at the same time.

Hanabi continued as if she hadn't heard. "If you're worried about Dad, don't be," she said. "We've already discussed the matter, and we're both in agreement that it would be in your best interest." When Hinata only shifted in her seat, she added, "only for a while, at least until you're able to get on your feet and decide what you want to do."

Hinata bristled again at the mention of their father, Hiashi Hyuga. She knew that Hanabi and Hiashi both believed her naïve and incapable of making any decisions concerning herself. And as she had never been on her own prior to moving away from home, she supposed there was some merit to their argument, but Hinata knew that to return to her family would only exacerbate their position.

She also hated repeating herself, but found she did a lot of that whenever she talked to Hanabi, who seemed intent on having her way. It almost seemed like a game, Hinata thought, one that she'd grown so tired of playing. It had commenced even before she had moved out, with Hanabi insisting that she was making a mistake, and that she should remain home with their family where she could be properly cared for.

Hanabi sighed deeply as her own irritation sparked. Hinata was always stubborn when talk of her returning home was broached, and though she had calculated Hinata's stubbornness beforehand, it still managed to rattle her nerves every damned time. "Look, we just want you to know that you have options," she reasoned, "and that you don't have to settle for … _housekeeping_." The tone of her voice dripped with distaste.

Hinata's gaze suddenly lifted and leveled on her sister. Their identical, pearlescent orbs, inherit amongst all the Hyugas, locked in a silent duel as each one vied the supremacy of her stance. It was then Hinata realized it was the first time since her sister's visit that morning that their eyes actually met. "I'm s-so sorry my p-profession is not to y-your taste," she replied curtly, or as curtly as she could despite her stutter. She stood suddenly then, retrieved both their mugs and placed them in the sink. She glanced at the digital clock on the used microwave. It had been one of the first purchases she had made after she moved in, and with money she had earned though honest labor, she thought with pride. She secured her black cardigan more tightly around her waist and shifted her focus beyond the window to the rain again. She really didn't give a damn what her family thought.

It was nearing nine o'clock. The rain had eased to a light drizzle. A shiver of pleasure momentarily zipped through Hinata as she looked up at the overcast sky. Ever since she could remember, she had loved rainy weather; her and Hanabi both. Memories of them frolicking about beneath the rainfall under the watchful eye of their mother caused her eyes to mist. How long ago it all seemed!

That her family considered her a disappointment, Hinata knew. As the oldest child, she was the next in line to inherit the Hyuga Empire. It was a position of immense power that carried with it an even greater responsibility. Only problem was, she hadn't cared for it. She had never fit the mold of the Hyuga elite. Her father had been considerate enough to remind her of her shortcomings over the years. Her eyes drifted closed as she reminisced.

"You're too soft," he would accuse as his lip curled derisively, "too passive. You lack any real confidence. You're weak," he spat contemptuously, "just like your damn mother."

Hinata's eyes shot open and she repeatedly blinked back her tears. Love was a foreign concept that never existed in her family. Duty to the family's image and the preservation of its standing in high society had taken precedence. Therefore, Hinata knew that it wasn't concern for her personal welfare that fueled her family's insistence that she return home. She stifled a dry and humorless laugh. If anything, her family just wanted her to return home where they could lock her away behind closed doors before she caused any embarrassment. It wouldn't do for its credibility if it became known that the first-born Hyuga heiress was a drunken housekeeper. They were Hyugas after all. They employed servants, they didn't _become_ them.

She inclined her head back to the table and watched as Hanabi reached into her clutch and extracted a small, folded piece of white paper. Hanabi slid the paper along the surface of the table toward Hinata beneath a set of immaculately manicured, red-polished nails. "Here," she offered, "this is for you."

Hinata's eyes narrowed curiously. "What is it?"

"The job lead I mentioned," Hanabi stated. "I suppose you could use it, seeing as how you've been out of work for a while." She shrugged when shock registered on Hinata's face. "Don't act so damned surprised," she snapped. "You know Dad always makes it a point to know what goes on with you."

"You mean he spies on me," Hinata concluded and huffed. Somehow that didn't surprise her. But knowing the man her father was, nothing about him ever had.

"You're a Hyuuga heiress, Hinata," Hanabi slowly stated with an emphasis on each word, as if it doing so would relay the importance of what she said, "whether you _appreciate_ it or not."

Hinata's eyes rooted expectantly upon the piece of paper like it was a life line. That she needed work was an understatement. Her last employer was an elderly gentleman who passed away after a seven year battle with cancer. Since then, Hinata accepted temporary assignments to make ends meet while she continued to search for a permanent housekeeping position. She was angered that the source of the job lead was the very man she strove so hard to distance herself from. Her head lowered as she tried to comprehend what it meant to accept her father's help. Perhaps doing so would only justify his opinion of her as an inexperienced hothead with no sense of direction after all. There was no doubt in her mind he'd hold the job lead over her head like so much collateral, reminding her of it when it worked to his advantage, because that was the kind of man her father was. Then again, maybe she was over-reacting, and she should just accept the damned lead for what it was, a mere favor. Hinata slightly shivered as her pride and humility continued to war within her slender frame. And whether it was because humility won out or her realization that beggars couldn't be choosers after all, Hinata reluctantly turned and crossed back to the table. As she reached for the paper, her eyes narrowed in response to the smug smile on Hanabi's face.

"Don't take it to heart if it doesn't work out," Hanabi stated as she released her hold of the paper with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Apparently he goes through maids at an alarming speed, so don't be surprised if it goes to bust."

Hinata straightened after she retrieved the paper. She shrugged. "Why does he have a high turnover?"

It was Hanabi's turn to shrug. "He's got a reputation for being hard to work for something, I don't know," she stated impatiently.

"_N-now_ she tells me," Hinata grumbled with open frustration.

"Look, you don't have to follow it up if you don't want to," Hanabi shrugged indifferently. She then returned to her earlier proposal. "You could just return back home with me. After all, it's been seven years, Hinata. You've proved your point."

"Is that what y-you think I'm d-doing?" Hinata asked heatedly, further angered at her stuttering tongue. "Proving a d-d-damned _point_?"

"Aren't you?" Hanabi shot back with equal intensity. She shook her head after a momentary lapse of silence. She reached back into her clutch and extracted a swollen envelope that she tossed onto the table with an indifferent flick of her hand. The unsecured flap opened as it landed, and a slew of crisp, hundred dollar bills spilled forth.

"No," Hinata objected with a jerk of her head.

"Just to tide you over," Hanabi shot back as if it should have been obvious. She angrily snapped her clutch closed and rose. "Damn it, Hinata, you're a real ungrateful piece of work, you know that? Millions would gladly trade their lives for yours, and what do you do? You chuck it away in exchange for… for…" Her voice trailed off as she lifted her arms wide to indicate the dilapidated state of Hinata's run-down apartment. She chuckled as her arms fell against her sides. "But hey, whatever works for you. You always were a strange one," she stated with a shake of her head. She then turned with a dismissive wave of her hand to make her way to the front door, but was halted by something in her peripheral vision. She turned to a wastebasket that was tucked into a corner between the refrigerator and a door that led to a fire escape outside the kitchen, and that was stacked high with an assortment of empty alcohol bottles. Hanabi froze mid-stride. Her lids slid closed as her head dipped back in an effort to staunch a sudden flow of tears that threatened to reveal themselves. She sighed deeply before she turned to fully face her sister, and continued in a voice suddenly softened by an admixture of grief and anger.

"Do you ever think about Mother's death?" Her voice was low as she spoke. "If so, then maybe you can help me to understand something, like how drunk do you think she had to be before she decided to make mincemeat of her damned wrists?" She tossed to a stricken Hinata before she disappeared through the front door and back into the family's limo that waited out front, complete with a driver at the ready to transport her back into her world of wealth and privilege; a world in which there was no doubt in her mind that she rightfully belonged.

~ 9 ~


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

_Gaara Sabaku_, the name on the folded piece of paper read in Hanabi's neat script. Hinata's eyes lifted to peer into the distance. _Sabaku, Sabaku, Sabaku,_ she mentally repeated. She was sure she had heard the name before, but couldn't recall in what context. She lowered her eyes back to the paper. Following his name was an address, a number, and an instruction to contact a certain Temari Sabaku for consideration. Probably a relation, Hinata guessed with a shrug of her shoulders before she refolded the paper and tossed it onto the dresser in her bedroom.

Having divested herself of her clothing, Hinata fashioned her thick, waist length hair into a heavy bun high atop her head. She then turned and headed into the small adjoining bathroom and cautiously lifted one foot into the tub of water that she had prepared for her bath. Because the cold water pipe in the bathroom was busted and didn't work, she could only fill the tub with scalding hot water and wait for the blistering temperature to ebb. She sighed with relief to find that it had cooled to a more tolerable degree of heat. She moaned her pleasure as she lowered herself into the water and allowed its warmth to ease much of the tension she felt from her sister's earlier visit.

"_How drunk do you think she had to be before she decided to make mincemeat of her damned wrists?" _

Hanabi's words continued to ring in Hinata's mind long after she'd left. Hinata's eyes narrowed as they turned to stare vacantly out the small window above the toilet at the twilight sky outside. She was surprised Hanabi had even remembered. She'd been so young when it had happened that Hinata thought that since she was the eldest she would be the only one to remember, to carry the memory of their mother's suicide.

Hinata could well remember the over cast Saturday when she and Hanabi had found their mother's dead body, because it had been Pancake Day. Hiashi was always away on business on the weekends, and because the mood around their home was generally relaxed during his absence, it was then that Hinata and Hanabi could be found in the spacious kitchen with their mother where they whipped up a tasty batter for the pancakes that they prepared and served with dripping heaps of heated syrup and whipped butter. It soon became sort of a ritual for them that they had affectionately termed Pancake Day. Only it was that particular Pancake Day morning when their mother had failed to come downstairs to the kitchen that the ritual had ceased to be, just as their mother had.

Her body had been reclined in a claw foot tub much like the one she soaked in now, Hinata remembered, but only more ornate like everything in the Hyuga mansion was, much to Hiashi's preference. Everything had to remain aglow with the opulence that was the Hyuga trademark, and to Hinata the entire mansion had always felt like a museum where the objects within were always meant for display and never for the comfort or enjoyment of its occupants. To her father, everything had a place and there was a place for everything. So rigid was he in his draconian inclination for order, that Hinata remembered her first reaction at finding her mother lying in a tub of blood-stained water was to wonder at how angry their father would be at their mother for ruining the tub.

Hinata could even remember the way her mother's body was positioned, and she used her memory as a guide as she reenacted its likeness. It wasn't hard to do, as the image of her mother's lifeless body was one that was forever etched in the forefront of her mind. She extracted a hand from the water and lifted it to the bun at the top of her head. She pulled the pins that held her hair in its bun and absently dropped them to the floor. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders and into the water where it fanned out about her along the surface. She then leaned against the back of the tub and lifted her arms to rest along its sides. She allowed her head to loll to one side against her shoulder. She remembered the way her mother's lids had lowered to half closed slits, the way her eyes fixed into a dull and lifeless stare, the way her breasts listlessly bobbed in the cold, red-tinged water.

It was Hanabi's cries when she shrieked in horror that alerted the attention of the staff, and the room was instantly peopled with servants that flustered about in a fit of terrified confusion. It had all happened so quickly. The police had responded to the scene. Upon investigation, foul play was ruled out as they confirmed what had seemed obvious, that she had expired as a result of the self-inflicted wounds to her wrists; a decision she had possibly come to as a resort of her drunken state that was evidenced by the empty alcohol bottles on the floor next to the tub. But since the toxicology reports concluded that the levels of alcohol in her blood had been lethally high, the truth was no one really knew exactly which had claimed her life; the alcohol or the cutting of her wrists? It was suicide either way it was looked at, and the case was closed and shut. And Hinata had remembered the gaping slashes from which bled her mother's life force. They twisted like little mouths that mocked them all, for her mother had shown them, hadn't she? They didn't think her mother had it in her, that she was too damned weak, but she'd shown them. She'd found the peace she had sought and craved for so long, the only release from the prison that was her life as the matriarch of the Hyuga dynasty, as Hiashi Hyuga's wife.

For the life of her, Hinata couldn't cry as she sat next to the tub, forgotten in the hubbub, and gripped her mother's hand and fingers that had grown cold and stiff with Rigor Mortis. Her mother's other arm had been bumped in the confused melee of shuffling bodies that ensued and that caused an object to dislodge from the loose clutch of her other hand. Hinata was quick to retrieve the object and gasped when she uncurled her fingers to reveal a small locket that held but two small photos inside, one of her and one of Hanabi. It was then that Hinata decided that she _wouldn't_ cry, because she then understood the decision to end her life had been her mother's, and she respected that. Despite the lonely ache she felt at her mother's absence, she alone knew how her mother had suffered at Hiashi's hands, for she'd suffered the same. Neither she nor her mother had ever measured up to his expectations. They were his disappointments, they were, and Hinata was just comforted to know that her mother had remembered her, had thought of her, in her last moments.

Hinata had been placed on suicide watch after that. Her mother's passing had meant the loss of the only source of warmth in her life, and a void had been created deep within her where nothing or no one had been able to touch her, to make her feel again. It was as if a piece of her had simply died. Everyone thought her grieving abnormal, and it was suggested to Hiashi that he seek professional help for the young heiress. She hadn't agreed with the decision, but she'd been a minor at the time, and when her father decided something, it simply was. And though Hinata had never pondered it deeply, she supposed she was grieving, but as she'd always been rather shy and reserved, she couldn't make sense of the order to monitor her moods, to report any and all strange behaviors she exhibited. But she'd soon learned to function beneath the ever watchful eyes; her new normal, she'd termed it, and days after that were indiscernible for Hinata as they pooled into weeks, and weeks into months. Soon, time was only made bearable by the memory of her mother's love that she kept tucked away inside her, out of reach of the overworked doctors who seemed hell bent on twisting it into some psychological illness, or explaining it away with some medical jargon as they prescribed narcotics to dull it. And she'd continued to silently endure her misery until she had graduated high school and was old enough to leave home. She'd cleared out her allowance that she had saved and, having found the apartment she now resided in, left with a few meager belongings and never looked back.

What no one had calculated was her dependency on the drink. Hell, it had surprised even her! She'd had no intention of succumbing to drink like her mother had. She had loathed alcohol and had vowed to steer clear of the stuff. But the first time she'd gotten drunk had been an accident. She'd simply been curious after all. She wondered what it was about the bitter liquid that her mother had found so comforting. And when her head had grown fuzzy, when her troubles had been dulled and rendered more and more insignificant with each swallow she took, it had become too late and she had become hooked. It had gotten to the point that she relied on the drink to assuage her every worry, quite possibly much the same way her mother had. And for a brief moment of drunken clarity –if there had ever been such a thing- her father's words had come back to haunt her. _Just like your damned mother_, he'd said to her so many times she'd lost count. Hinata scoffed to think he'd been right after all.

How long she had been in the tub, Hinata was unsure, but the water-logged skin of her fingertips was indication that it had been too long. She eventually stepped from the water and wrapped a towel around her. She crossed the short distance back into her bedroom where she toweled dry and sat at the foot of her bed. The springs of the mattress squeaked loudly in protest to her weight, all of which she ignored as she pulled a brush through her ebony mane. Her stomach grumbled low with hunger, and her eyes lifted to the envelope of cash she placed on her dresser after Hanabi insisted that she keep it.

Hinata was still unsure whether or not she would follow up on the lead for no other reason than her father had been the one to provide it to her. She knew she was being childish and worried that she was going to have to follow up on the lead for lack of any other alternatives. As it was, the assignments she accepted through the local temp agency had become more and more sparse, her savings were dangerously low, and there really hadn't been any other prospects. Her mind whirled with plausible solutions to her dilemma when her stomach rumbled in protest again. Damn it! She yanked on a pair of faded jeans and an equally faded, hooded sweatshirt. She quickly plucked a couple bills from the envelope of money and stuffed them into a pocket with her keys. She then stashed the envelope in a drawer beneath a stack of neatly arranged bras and decided guilt would have to wait before paying her a visit. After all, she did her best thinking on a full stomach, she reasoned and paused at the front door where she shoved her feet into a pair of plain canvas sneakers before heading out into the night.

It wasn't until after she exited a local ramen shop where she satiated her hunger that Hinata was grateful that she'd left her hair down. It was sure to dry in the light breeze that picked up and wafted through the streets of Konoha. She gently tucked raven tendrils behind her ears as her mind formed around the idea of a drink. She shook the fringe of her bangs from her eyes with a small toss of her head as she spotted the cheap liquor store up ahead that she often patronized. Having exited some time later with the weight of her purchases – two fifth bottles of vodka and a few pint-sized bottles of some other cheap, hard liquor- pressing securely against her chest in the large brown paper bag she carried, she turned in the direction of her home with a measured pace and slightly bowed head.

Long, solitary walks were a favorite pastime of Hinata's, and she especially enjoyed them in the evening. There was still something wholly fascinating about the night that appealed to her. What was harsh and garish in the broad daylight appeared softened beneath the ethereal light of the moon. Even the headlights of passing vehicles filled her with a sense of wonder as they sped past, and she entertained herself as she walked by making up stories as to where motorists were headed. But it was those games that always filled her with a sense of longing. The sound of a plane overhead drew her attention, and she lifted her wistful gaze to where it flew like a shooting star. Hinata briefly halted and closed her eyes as she made a wish that she would one day be a passenger of any one of those flights that would take her to wherever, she didn't care, so long as it was far away from her life here.

She soon approached the intersection of the busy highway where a quick glance in either direction confirmed the way was clear for her to cross, but no sooner had she stepped from the curb that the loud, shrill sound of brakes being applied caused her head to jerk in time to see a car careening directly at her in a blinding, blurry mass of metal and bright lights.

It all managed to happen so fast, like one huge blur of light that suddenly flashed once before it was gone. Hinata's mouth opened to scream, but she made no sound other than to simply gasp as the car continued to advance. Her limbs failed to heed her brain's command to move, and she was like a deer caught in headlights as she stood paralyzed with fear. Her heart painfully contracted with dread, and it wasn't until the car began to come to a deafening, screeching halt that her legs finally moved, and she stumbled and fell in an attempt to quickly jump out of the path of the oncoming car. Her grip on the bag loosened as her arms shot out to brace the impact of her fall as she slammed against the hard surface of the asphalt. The bottles slipped from the paper bag and shattered against the road, and Hinata screamed out as they splintered upon contact and sent a spray of broken glass and alcohol up into her face.

Hinata could hear the sound of a car door opening and being slammed shut. "Shit!" A male voice angrily bit, and then there was the sound of advancing footsteps. Someone was approaching her, but she couldn't see who it was. Her eyes were pressed tightly closed against the intense burning sensation from the alcohol that had splashed upward into her face.

"Are you okay?" The same male voice asked, and his tone was more soothing this time as he reached a hand out and clasped Hinata's upper arm. "Can you stand?" Hinata nodded and groaned as the man help to hoist her back to her feet. "Easy, easy," the man commanded when she swayed on wobbly legs.

"Are you okay?" The man asked again, and Hinata nodded again.

"I'm f-f-fine," she managed weakly as she tried to push away from him. Her hands stung, and she risked slowly opening her eyes to inspect them as she lifted them before her face. Her palms were red where they roughly scraped the asphalt, and bled oozed where tiny flecks of broken glass had penetrated her skin. Her burning gaze slid over to the broken bottles. She gently wrested her arm free of the man's grip and bent to inspect the damage. She sighed as she was relieved to find that a couple of the bottles were still in the bag and miraculously intact.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Hinata heard the man as he began again. "You almost get plowed down in the middle of the damned road, and all you're concerned with is your fucking _liquor_?"

"I'm s-s-sorry," Hinata apologized. She truly hadn't meant to cause him any inconvenience. She noticed that though his voice hadn't risen beyond a deep, velvety huskiness, there was no mistaking his angry tone. Sighing, she retrieved the bag with the two unharmed bottles. She then stood and proceeded to scrape the broken glass in the gutter alongside the curb with the bottom of her canvas sneaker.

"It was just a f-fall," she managed with a slight shrug, "n-no big d-deal." She gasped when the man gripped her shoulder again and wheeled her around. It was then that Hinata looked at him fully for the first time as she beheld what had to be the most intense shade of green eyes she'd ever seen. They long and wide slant of his eyes was cat-like and rimmed with black rings. Her own brows knit together to discover he had no brows at all.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out, and gestured with his eyes to her forearm before allowing his eyes to return to bore into her face and into a most peculiar set of pearlescent eyes.

Hinata's eyes slowly lowered to her forearm where the material of her sweatshirt was soaked through with blood.

"I'll take you to the emergency room," he decided with finality, but frowned when Hinata tried to pull away again. His grip tightened. "I said I'll take you."

"And I s-said I'm f-f-_fine_," she repeated. Hinata decided that if this man had brows, they would knit together above the bridge of his nose, in much the same way the skin there did instead. She averted her face away from the steady pressure of his gaze as he continued to hold her in place. What the hell was he looking at, anyway? "E-excuse me," she stated and wrested her arm from his grip. She then turned and stepped back onto the sidewalk where she slightly limped away from the accident, and toward the safety of her apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"What the hell is this?" Temari Sabaku demanded. She sighed impatiently when her younger brother, Kankuro Sabaku, plopped a folded newspaper atop the small stack of documents she'd been going over. She had a zero tolerance for being interrupted whilst in the middle of work, so whatever he had to say, it had better be good. She watched with an arched brow over her black-rimmed glasses as Kankuro casually lowered himself into one of the two chairs on the opposite of the desk at which she sat. He lifted his feet and rested them on the corner of the desk as he gestured toward the paper before Temari with the Styrofoam cup of coffee he held. Her eyes rove over his dress where he sat: a black, long-sleeved top and a pair of jeans. "Will you ever wear a suit?" She asked.

"Only at my funeral," was Kankuro's facetious reply, and Temari's eyes rolled. "But take a look," he stated, drawing her attention to the paper. "Looks like the Sabakus have made the headlines again." A corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. "Or at least one of us did, anyways," he stated with a suggestive wink. "Lifestyle section, front page," he pointed out.

Openly annoyed, Temari sighed as she pressed the glasses back up the bridge of her nose with a solitary finger. Her eyes lowered to the paper and immediately honed on the bold, black title, 'EXCLUSIVE: RECLUSIVE HEIR OF SABAKU OIL IN SEX SCANDAL WITH HOUSEKEEPER'. Her gaze then skimmed over to the photo of Gaara that was inserted. Next to that was included a photo of the woman Temari recognized as his housekeeper. Or, rather, his _former_ housekeeper, she silently corrected herself inwardly as she made quick work of the article. Her ire steadily rose with each word she read and when she finished, she took off her glasses and tossed them on top of the paper.

"That's the third housekeeper in the last two months," she stated as she closed her eyes. She leaned back in her seat and pinched the upper bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "The _third_," she emphasized heatedly. She moaned her frustration out loud as she picked up the paper and returned her attention to the article. "Damn it, Kankuro, why are you bringing this to me now?" She wondered at Kankuro's motives because she really didn't need this right now. There was just so much else to do. After six months, talks between Sabaku Oil and Konoha officials on the installation of the new pipeline that would span the distance between the two nations of Sunagakure and Konoha were finally being concluded. All that was left to finalize was the cost estimation before construction could begin as early as next month. The last thing she needed to be bothered with right now was some gossip column about her brother. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn't as if news like this was anything new. How many articles had been written about Gaara? For years now his eccentric and reclusive nature made him the stuff of inane gossip such as this. Yet there was never any proof. It was all conjecture. "Insubstantial hearsay," she scoffed and tossed the paper back onto the desk with a flick of her hand.

Kankuro's brows lifted. "I wish that was the case this time," he stated, "except this one decided to talk." He lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to point to something on the paper.

That got Temari's attention as she sat bolt upright again and peered to where Kankuro pointed to the subheading under the headline that she'd apparently overlooked. _'Housekeeper tells all'_, it read, and Temari shook her head. How the hell had she missed that? She must be tired, she thought, and lifted her glasses to swipe a hand over her eyes.

"For her to open her damned mouth about anything even _minutely_ related to Gaara would be for her to violate the confidentiality clause she signed upon hire. It's suicide," Temari stated.

"Exactly," Kankuro stated with no small amount of smugness as he resumed his seat.

Temari's eyes narrowed. That the housekeeper had agreed to the give the interview was a breach in her contract with the Sabakus. They would close in for the kill with the lawsuit. It was clean, neat, and simple. Perfect. "Then you know what to do," she stated with a shrug and turned her attention back to the documents.

"I'm ahead of you," Kankuro notified. "I already contacted the lawyers and they're already on it." He sighed and took another loud, slurping sip of his coffee and smacked his lips in satisfaction. He then chuckled, to which Temari frowned.

"You find this amusing." It was a statement rather a question.

"Because it _is _amusing," he stated, "admit it." That the housekeeper had even chanced the interview despite the injunctions in place against doing so was such an idiotic move that he couldn't help but question her level of intelligence. "Makes me wonder why she even did it."

"Probably for the payout," Temari stated, because it had always been for the payout. She thought better of trying to focus on work now and decided she would wait to peruse them later when she was sure to catch some time alone. She neatly gathered the papers together before returning them to the leather document carrier being used to transport them in. She then lifted her elbows onto the desk and folded her hands beneath her chin as she inclined her gaze to the window outside where a gathering of cumulus clouds floated across the clear, azure sky like pieces of fluffy cotton.

It was the same, age-old story being repeated again. Temari was used to people trying to manipulate her family for monetary gain. It was a constant in the lives of her and her siblings as they compromised the heirs of the empire that was Sabaku Oil. This incident of the housekeeper giving an interview to the papers was a prime example. Though the plot was never changed, it was always certain, key characters that did. Temari's lips pursed. Greed was definitely a motive not to be reckoned with, and Temari had had the misfortune of witnessing first hand what it could do, the havoc and devastation it could wreak in the lives of even the most good willed of individuals. But in this case, it had been her baby brother, Gaara, they were talking about.

Temari's earlier indignation at the article dissolved into disbelief as she recalled the housekeeper's accounts of all the events that had supposedly transpired during her brief employ as Gaara's housekeeper. The woman had relayed tales of lurid sex that had made even someone as seasoned as Temari blush and squirm with unease; two things not easily done.

"Shit, Kankuro," she asked as she shook her head, bemused. "You don't possibly think there's any truth to what she said, do you, that Gaara really engaged her in any of those things?"

Kankuro's lips pursed. His narrowed gaze lowered to the cup he held, and he was silent before he spoke. "I think we're long past the point of doubt, don't you think?" He slowly twirled the cup in his hands. "He's our baby brother, Temari, and none knows him better than us."

Temari was silent as the meaning of his words sank in. Kankuro was right. They weren't afforded the luxury of innocence, of being able to turn a blind and unsuspecting eye to what they both knew was the truth about their brother. And it truly was as Kankuro said. None knew him better than they did, or else they wouldn't deem the implementation of the confidentiality clause such a necessity in the first place. It was there for a reason; a reason they were both all too familiar with.

"Where the hell does all that come from anyway?" Though Temari had voiced the question aloud, it was rhetorical in nature and hadn't warranted a response.

"Let's not lose focus of the issue here, which is _not _his sexual tendencies by the way. Besides, what he does is his business." Kankuro shrugged. He's a normal, healthy man with a normal, healthy sex life." He scoffed. "Oh, yeah, big story there," he added sarcastically. "I swear, journalists must be really hard up for a good story these days."

Temari inclined her head toward the paper. "And you think this is normal, healthy sexual behavior?" Her voice rose an octave as she spoke.

"Hey, look," Kankuro stated with a shake of his head as he lifted his arms wide. "I'm not one to judge, and I sure as hell don't make it my business to know what goes on behind Gaara's closed doors."

"Except when it makes the front page of a damned gossip column," Temari stated with finality before clamming up in an angry silence.

Kankuro watched as Temari continued to frown as she returned her gaze out the window. As the eldest sister, Temari had assumed a motherly role over Gaara and him since their parents had passed. Though they disagreed over Gaara's lifestyle – Temari found it disturbing whereas Kankuro had adopted a more _laissez-faire_ attitude in regards to it – he nonetheless knew that though it didn't show, Temari loved Gaara and only wanted to protect him from the gossip mill that seemed intent on making him out a crazed individual.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between Temari and Kankuro, but it was Kankuro who broke it when he spoke.

"Hey," he started in a softer tone, "have there been any other candidates up for the position?"

Temari shook her head as she swiveled in her chair and stood. She crossed over to a side table where a carafe of fresh coffee sat idle. Pleased that it was still hot, she poured herself a cup before crossing behind Kankuro and to the window that she had stared out of earlier. She took a small sip before she answered.

"No, not yet, but I am waiting on a call."

Kankuro's brows knit. "You're _waiting_ on a call?" He asked, and Temari nodded. "From who," he wondered, "an applicant?"

Temari nodded in the affirmative and turned to Kankuro to find him watching her curiously. "A friend of mine owes me a favor and stated she possibly knew someone who'd be interested, that she'd be perfect for the job. She told me to expect her call."

Kankuro waited, but when Temari offered no more information, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. She was being vague, that was obvious, but he wasn't sure why. But whatever, he decided, he was sure he'd find out soon enough. He shrugged and stood to leave.

"By the way," Temari asked as Kankuro crossed and planted a light, parting kiss on her cheek, "where did Gaara get off to last night?"

Kankuro shrugged. "Not sure. Why?"

Temari shrugged. "Nothing," she started, but then changed her mind. "Actually, he was supposed to be handling the cost estimation for the pipeline project, and I need to get it from him." And it hadn't been a total lie, she thought, as she did have yet to retrieve it from him. She'd tried to contact him all last evening, but he must have turned off his phone as he never answered. And he never failed to answer, unless he was…

"...playing," Kankuro finished, and Temari shook her head.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I said that knowing Gaara, he was probably out… _playing_." Again the suggestive wink that made Temari cringe. She sighed, afraid that that had been the case.

**A/N: I apologize for the delay! I am trying to be better about updates this time around than I was with 'Hindsight', so please bear with me! I also scanned for errors, and apologize if some still linger. Now, pressing on to a few things: **

**ONE: I'd like to say that I realize it may be hard to picture Hinata as a drunk, but I think it adds a realistic quality to her character. For some time I've wanted to do a fan fiction with the Gaahina pairing. I do follow the Naruto manga/anime, and when I kept trying to think of a plot/storyline, I remember the episode where Hinata tried to save Naruto from Pain (I'm sure you guys remember that AWESOME episode, right?). Anyways, I remember when she was saying (and I paraphrase) that her love for Naruto kept her from going down the wrong path, and it was like a eureka moment or something, I don't know, because a light bulb definitely went off in my head and I thought, hey, maybe I'll try to write her in that vein. Also, I know that it was never part of the Naruto storyline that Hinata's wife committed suicide. That was all my doing. The way I see it, if I had to grow up in a household with an overbearing father and my mother had taken her life, I'd be a bit of a drunken loon, too. LOL! Therefore, my goal was to make her a flawed character with issues. Did I pull it off? Let me know what you think! **

**TWO: I also realize that Gaara's, Temari's, and Kankuro's last name isn't 'Sabaku'. But I wanted to include a last name for the lack of one, and decided to follow the lead of another Fan Fiction author that did so. **

**THREE: As if I had to mention, I DO NOT OWN NARUTO! **

**Thank you for the reviews, and MAHALO! **

~ 9 ~


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

It was still early when Kankuro paid Gaara a visit. Gaara had stood watching as the morning sun poured in through the floor length window of his bedroom. Golden spikes of sunlight, long and thin, stretched beyond him to pierce the darkness of the room behind him. From the looming height of his penthouse suite at The Hotel Hyuga, his green eyes watched as vehicles that resembled tiny insects slowly moved along in a long line of traffic. It was then that the doorbell sounded and diverted his attention, and he crossed to open the door wide to allow his big brother entry before he silently closed the door.

"And to what do I owe this visit?" Gaara greeted.

Kankuro sauntered in with yet another Styrofoam cup of coffee he'd scored on his way over. He crossed to plop unceremoniously onto the leather L-shaped sofa and lifted his feet onto the surface of the glass coffee table in front of him. A small fire burned in a gas fireplace on the opposite side of the coffee table. He sipped his coffee as his eyes followed his brother's movement to a wet bar where he prepared himself an early morning cocktail.

"A little early for that, don't you think?"

Gaara popped open a bottle of brandy that he poured over a rocks glass filled with ice. He dipped his head back as he downed it in one gulp, and repeated the action. He then filled his glass one last time with a drink he would nurse and turned to find Kankuro watching him steadily. "Breakfast of champions," he stated dryly as he lifted the glass in salute.

Kankuro took another sip of coffee before he started on the matter he wanted to discuss, the reason for his visit. "Temari knows about the article. I gave her the paper earlier this morning. She's pissed, man." He watched as Gaara's shoulders shrugged as if to say 'what else is new'? But they both knew Temari's anger was borne of her over-protectiveness for her family. She hated that any blight should be cast upon their family name. "Now, I meant it when I told her I didn't give a shit how you got your rocks off, but dude, the housekeepers?"

Gaara went to the fireplace opposite the coffee table. He reached for the remote control that rested on the marble mantle and increased the flame. He then crossed to resume his post by the window. It had grown chilly in the suite. Beyond the window pane, he could hear the loud whirring of the wind as it blew with such force as to be expected at this height. He lifted a hand and pressed it against the coolness of the glass. It was nearing the end of September in Konoha, and the temperatures had already cooled despite the still brightly shining sun. It wouldn't be long before winter would be upon the mountainous terrain, and it would be snowing soon.

"You talk as if I punished them," Gaara stated as he continued to stare out over the skyline.

"Well_, didn't _you? And what was wrong with them? I mean, were they ugly? Did their breath stink? Did they bleach your favorite shirts, burn your dinner… _what_?" Because if truth be told, the accounts had indeed read like a punishment that Gaara had enjoyed meting out.

Gaara wasn't sure he could explain it to Kankuro in a way that he could easily understand; that for Gaara, it wasn't the mere act of sex alone that pleased him. It was the dominating control he assumed over his partners that he found psychologically erotic, and eliciting their responses by way of a series of painful pleasures that he subjected them to that fueled his lust. It had been a sexual charge for him when he exacted his brand of sex on his unsuspecting housekeepers. It wasn't his fault that they hadn't liked his games.

When Kankuro realized Gaara wasn't going to elaborate, possibly wasn't going to talk any further, he sighed. "Well, I already have the lawyers on it, so you don't have to worry." He cocked his head to the side as he thought for a moment. "And just so you know, Gaara, if you continue to plow through housekeepers at this rate, you're going to develop a reputation and before you know it, you won't be able to hire a single fucking one." He chuckled as if this amused him and shook his head. "Anyways, I've got work to do. Temari's already screening applicants for a replacement, and she's waiting on that cost analysis for _SunaKon_," he reminded, adopting the portmanteau that the pipeline project had come to be called. He then gave his little brother a mock salute before he left.

_You don't have to worry_. Gaara barely heaved a shrug, because he wasn't worried, wasn't bothered by it in the least. He was aware of the article, of the blow-by-blow accounts the housekeeper had relayed. His life's experiences had taught him how to weather all sorts of ills, and as a result he had grown accustomed to all the gossip that had been written about him, had grown a second skin against the negative opinions that swirled about him; opinions the article detailing his latest exploit were sure to solidify. So no, he wasn't bothered, because the day he took anything written about him in a trifling gossip column to heart was the day he deserved every bit of abuse that had ever written about him.

That Temari was already screening new applicants was a given. She hadn't thought him able to care for himself, and he knew he was to blame for that. He rarely ventured outside except out of necessity, whether it was due to work or in pursuit of some other carnal need. He knew both Temari and Kankuro cared about him, but often wished they gave him a wider berth in which to make his own decisions without them feeling the need to safeguard his every move. He figured it was due to the fissure that still existed between them as they hadn't been raised together. Though he had grown close to his siblings, the bond between Temari and Kankuro was still significantly stronger. It wasn't until Gaara was fifteen that he'd been reunited with them, so he'd missed out on the familial bonding that usually characterized the early, more formative years of people's lives. And it often felt to him as if Temari was always trying to make up for the lack of family in his life with the manner in which she often assumed a motherly role in his life. It was as if she'd felt guilty. But it had felt strange. After all, their mother was long past, and he couldn't very well miss what he never had.

It was also why he knew they would probably never understand how he felt. That he'd been so lonely at times that he physically ached. That the loneliness had been a persistent affliction that had been ongoing for as long as he could remember, and that had left him feeling lost and without a sense of direction. Sure, he had some semblance of stability in his life with his siblings as the heirs of Sabaku Oil for which he was grateful, but it hadn't come close to fulfilling that need to belong _with_ someone.

It was then that the sound of sheets being rustled commanded his attention, and Gaara downed the last of his drink and returned the empty glass to the wet bar. He then walked back into the bedroom and stood next to the bed, gazing at the body on it.

A woman with dark hair fashioned into a sleek bob moaned and shifted in the restraints that restricted much of her movement. She was positioned on her stomach with her arms outstretched and slightly elevated, and her wrists were encased in leather cuffs attached to the rungs of the old-fashioned headboard that he had purchased for this very ability. She turned her head towards Gaara to feast her eyes on his nakedness as he stripped off his jeans. Her eyes trailed down the length of him. Sinewy muscles in his broad shoulders flowed into the lean, corded planes of his torso, over the rounded firmness of his buttocks, and continued to his long, sculpted legs. She would have greeted him, but was unable to speak for the black rubber ball gag behind her teeth that was bound behind her head and rendered her speech unintelligible. She merely sighed as she continued to gaze at him expectantly.

Despite the fact that he'd patronized the services of this particular escort multiple times before, Gaara still had failed to retrieve her name, mainly because he didn't _want_ to know it. Their agreement for her to remain nameless was to his preference as he found it completely irrelevant to put a name to the face and body of the woman he knew he would put away like so much trash shortly after she'd served her purpose. Whether or not she was aware of his identity hadn't mattered to him, nor had he asked. He simply hadn't cared, because he knew she wouldn't talk. As a prostitute, her censure was a tool of her trade upon which her own success was predicated. He knew it was presumptuous of him to assume she would agree to see him on short notice, but he also knew she wouldn't refuse him. She never refused him. She worked amidst the upper echelon of Konohagakure's high society with a clientele that boasted of wealthy and powerful businessmen, doctors, lawyers, and judges alike. And she had often touted that of all her clients, Gaara had been the only one who truly knew how to fuck. She delighted in the passionate nature of his sexual proclivities that often bordered on the darkly erotic. She preferred it to the usual vanilla sex her less varied patrons defaulted to. Gaara had liked it rough, and she was more than happy to comply. Even now, as she lie before him, her body ached deliciously from the round of sex he'd treated her to last night.

Gaara continued to regard the escort coolly. After they'd made arrangements to meet, he'd been on his way to collect her last night when he almost rendered a certain brunette into road kill. His eyes narrowed as he remembered. She had long, thick ebony hair that she wore down with a bang that fringed what had to be her most arresting feature; and it was by the beam of his car's headlights that Gaara noted the eerily pale hue of her expressive eyes. Like a moth to a flame, their haunted dullness told a story of pain and loneliness that he for some reason felt he could relate to. They reached out to him and drew him in, her eyes did, and he decided he could probably stare into those eyes for all eternity. Hell, he probably would have stood there and stared into them longer then had she not ripped herself free of his grip and ran off to wherever it was she had come from. He had stood there a moment longer staring after her retreating figure as she disappeared deeper into the night, clutching the brown paper bag of alcohol bottles to her chest like her damned life depended on it. He remembered she'd sustained a pretty nasty wound on her forearm, and he fleetingly wondered if she was okay. He thought against the possibility of running into her again but knew it was highly unlikely. His thoughts were interrupted as the woman moaned her discomfort at the cuffs that encircled her wrists. She'd been in the position for a few hours now and her muscles were growing sore and stiff.

He thought of the piece about him in the paper again. Perhaps the opinions of him were true, that he was too unstable to ever expect to find himself in a committed relationship, and he wondered if this was how life would always be for him. Would he remain alone, forced to slake his desires with prostitutes for hire? Was he never to know what it was like to love, to _be_ loved in return? After all, his demons were too many, his ability to trust long severed. The memories of his past were always at the forefront of his mind, and a multitude of lifetimes would never be enough to make them fade, to bleed away into oblivion as if they'd never happened. His past _was_ him, had shaped him into the man he was, and he was convinced there wasn't a damned woman alive who could ever accept that about him.

The escort began to wriggle with obvious discomfort where she lay, and whether she was aware of it or not, Gaara's desire began to build at the image of helplessness she produced. He reached into the drawer of his night stand and extracted a condom. He then climbed over her, straddling her, and anticipation made his breath catch in his throat as he rolled the protective barrier over his erection. He reached for the chain attached to the back of the posture collar that was still fastened around her neck. Her head lifted back, and her back arched in protest to the unnatural position. He moaned as her derriere teased him as it lifted as if in an offering; an offering that Gaara slowly partook of over and over again over the course of the next hour.

**A/N: I promise, I _really_ tried to check for errors, so please forgive me if I overlooked any. And I want to give a hellaciously huge shot out to all those who favorited my story! It really is better than a review. As a matter of fact, it's like a review to the "nth" degree! LOL! ; ) You guys really are great! **


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

"I'm s-sorry, could you r-repeat the question?" Hinata shifted nervously in her seat. She hated interviews. She'd never been good at them. They were stressful and nerve-wracking, and she lacked the finesse required to convince the interviewee – Ms. Temari Sabaku, in this instance – as to why she was a good fit for the job. It was a wonder she'd gotten the jobs she had in the past.

"I asked if you were willing to travel, Miss," Temari noted the fake name on the résumé, "_Higashi_?" Her brows arched. Now there was a story for that nosy-assed gossip mill posing as journalists, she thought, of how a hotel heiress worked as a housekeeper under an alias. Her eyes lifted to rest curiously on the young brunette on the opposite side of her desk. Everything about Hinata reeked of insecurity from the slight hunch of her shoulders to the way her eyes remained rooted to her tightly clenched hands in her lap, and eventually to the odd manner in which she pressed the tips of her index fingers together.

Was she willing to travel? Hinata's brain wracked for an answer. She was desperate for this job. She was grateful she was even being seen on short notice, and supposed she should credit the night she'd almost been hit for encouraging her to act on the job lead.

After she stumbled into her apartment, still shivering from the scare of the near collision, she clumsily made her way into her kitchen where she set the bag of alcohol bottles on the counter. She had instantly peeled off her sweatshirt there and tossed it across the back of one of the chairs at the table, and sought to nurse the wounds of her hands on her forearm while standing over the sink. But it wasn't until she realized how deep the cut in her forearm was that she figured a trip to the emergency room was in order after all. She had sighed with relief for what apparently was a slow night when she arrived at the emergency room and found it sparsely occupied. Her wait was short and she was called quickly. When the registrar inquired of her name, she resorted to the alias she reserved for such instances. "Hinata Higashi," she stated, and was amazed at the ease with which the fake name rolled off her tongue. It wasn't that she enjoyed lying because she hadn't, but her desire to conceal the can of worms that was her true identity won out over her sense of morality.

As she was uninsured, she was glad she had remembered to stuff the envelope of money into her pocket as an afterthought, but was later aggravated to find that the cost of the procedure nearly totaled all the money she had left. She ignored the cashier's gaping mouth as she counted out the bills out on the counter, layering them one on top of the other. And when she was later released with a freshly stitched wound, a paper with detailed instructions as to how to care for it, and a prescription for a pain medication she had no intention of filling, she trudged back home beneath a cloud of depression. She realized she still hadn't had her drink, and the remaining alcohol bottles beckoned to her where she left them on her kitchen counter.

When she reached home, she immediately grabbed the remaining fifth of vodka from the kitchen and then headed to her bedroom where she stripped to her bra and panties. She then crawled in her bed and reclined her back against the headboard with its chipping paint, and nursed the bottle until it was empty against the backdrop of loud rock music that blared through the paper thin walls from her neighbor's next door apartment. It was all she remembered as she gazed at the piece of folded white paper on her dresser before her vision grew blurry and she fell asleep, sprawled across her bed in a drunken slumber.

When she woke the next morning, a glance at the clock on the small table that served as her night stand read nine o'clock, and she moaned against a throbbing headache as she rolled over onto her back and seriously scrutinized her situation. Now that she was really in bad shape financially – the visit to the ER had seen to that – she began to pore over her options to find that she really had none. She thought of the lead and for a moment decided that she was being silly. So what if it came from her father? Did the source really matter? It was a possible job, for crying out loud, and her pride was sorely misplaced then if she thought she was in a position to pass it up. She rose and headed to her bathroom where she ran a tub of hot water, and then entered her kitchen and set a pot of coffee to brew. She later dined on a simple breakfast of coffee and toast as she waited for the water in the tub to cool.

She remembered Hanabi's words about the employer's high turnover rate and shrugged. Surely she could hold out long enough to secure a couple weeks' pay, and if for all intents and purposes the job still didn't pan out for her then, either, it was still better than nothing. Yet, it wasn't until after a couple more days of wallowing in self-pity that she finally screwed up enough determination long enough for her to dial the number listed on the paper, and she was surprised when her call was answered almost immediately.

"Temari Sabaku," a female voice greeted impatiently, as if she'd been interrupted, and Hinata cleared her throat before she began.

"Y-yes, my name is H-Hinata, and…"

"Hello?" Temari cut off on the other end. She had to strain to hear the soft voice.

Hinata took a deep breath and tried again. "H-hello, my n-name is H-Hinata, and…"

"Oh, Hinata," Temari stated, and it was as if the earlier irritation had suddenly seeped from her voice as it immediately calmed. "How are you?"

If Hinata didn't know any better, she would think this woman had been _expecting_ her call. A crazy idea, she knew, and shook her head. "I'm fine," she answered. "I'm calling in r-reference to the h-housekeeping position, and I'm curious if it's s-still available?"

"Yes, yes," Temari readily responded. She leaned forward to scrutinize her large, desktop itinerary. "Listen, can you come in later on today for a brief interview? It is customary. And as I'm really swamped, I'm afraid it's the only time I have available."

"Oh, o-okay," Hinata nodded. "No problem…"

"Fine, let's promptly meet at noon, then, no later," Temari stated decisively as she cut Hinata off. She then gave an address before she concluded the call and left a confused Hinata to stare at her receiver with wonder.

Hinata wasted no time bathing and dressed in a white, long-sleeve blouse that she tucked into the waistband of a black, knee-length skirt, a pair of sheer hose, and black low-heeled pumps. She brushed her hair until it shone like ebony silk and secured it in the back with a large hair clip. Though it had been a while since Hinata bothered with any makeup, it was as if she remembered all the steps and she set about transforming herself into the Hyuga heiress that she'd been groomed to be. She expertly applied an even shade of foundation to hide the blotchiness of her complexion and followed up with a bit of concealer that she dotted beneath her eyes to obscure the discoloration there. Next, she followed with a bit of blush to her cheeks before she concentrated on applying makeup to her eyes and lips. When she finished, she stepped back and assessed her handiwork. The reflection that stared back was of her beautiful, former self that Hinata felt she hadn't recognized anymore, at least not since her mother's death. She stared a moment longer before turning away at the pinprick of tears behind her lids, grabbed a few items, and was off.

It wasn't until she stood in front of the building that she recognized the name. Sabaku Oil, the read thick golden letters on the building's gray façade. She realized the two-story building wasn't nearly as impressive as she would have expected of an oil company, and guessed that it probably wasn't a main office, but a subsidiary location. If so, where was the home office located? She quickly mounted the stairs before she pushed through a set of large, glass double doors and approached an expansive stretch of a counter. After she stated the purpose of her visit to a receptionist, she waited until her appointed was confirmed before she was guided to a set of elevators that would take her to the second floor. There, she entered an office where she met with a personal secretary who buzzed her employer that her appointment was in.

Thus far, Hinata learned that the position required that she work as a housekeeper for a Gaara Sabaku. Her earlier theory that he was a relation was confirmed when she found he was a sibling of Temari's. He was a young bachelor who comprised one third of the heirs along with Temari and another brother, and the three of them together ran the corporation of Sabaku Oil. But where did travelling factor in?

"W-where exactly would I be expected to travel?"

Temari lightly tossed the résumé back onto the desk and leaned back in her seat. She crossed one leg over the other and rested her folded hands on her top knee. "As you know, winter is soon approaching here in Konoha, and it's customary for my family that we spend the winter months back in our homeland of Sunagakure." She shrugged. "At that point, you would work as a live-in, of course, and all of your expenses will be paid in addition to your pay. Unless otherwise noted, we return to Konoha in the spring." She quietly studied Hinata as she awaited the young woman's response.

Hinata's brows knitted. She'd never traveled outside Konoha before. Growing up, her father had never included the family in any of his travels, and she, Hanabi, and their mother had even had spent their vacations without him at the family vacation home that was situated along the border. But all of that had ceased after her mother's death, and the home was no longer occupied. She remembered the night of her near accident, when she was almost hit by the man with no eyebrows. She had been walking home when she had gazed up at the night sky above and childishly made a wish to one day be able to travel, to be on a plane to somewhere, anywhere, so long as it was away from her life in Konoha. Even if it was just for work, the proposition to travel now was as if her prayer had been answered. It would be a big step for her, she knew, but decided that perhaps a big step was what it would take if she ever wanted to realize her goal to truly remove herself from her father's influence. So she nervously gripped the material of her skirt and drew a deep breath.

"When do I start?"

Temari smiled as she went over a few details before releasing Hinata from the interview. Hinata was to show up at the residence of Gaara Sabaku where she was due to start in a couple days. A standard uniform – black dress with white apron – would be required and yes, the one she already owned would be sufficient. Temari showed Hinata out of the office and turned to resume her seat behind her desk. No sooner had she sat back down did the door open again and Kankuro breezed in. He never knocked.

"I didn't know you had a meeting scheduled," he stated as he advanced into the office and lackadaisically plopped into one of the chairs. He sipped from his signature Styrofoam cup of coffee that seemed to Temari to magically sprout from his hands. "Who was that?"

"Not so much a meeting but an interview," Temari stated. She inclined her head toward the door as she pulled her seat closer to her desk. "And _that_ was Gaara's new housekeeper."

Kankuro grimaced. "Seems a little… _mousy_, don't you think?" He asked as if trying to find the right word to describe the way she practically scurried past him down the hall. But he couldn't help but think she looked familiar when she briefly raised her head and he had a clear view of her face. "Do I know her?"

"She's Hanabi's sister." Temari shrugged.

Kankuro choked as he took a swig of coffee. "You're jerking my chain." His eyes searched Temari's face as he waited for her to confirm his suspicion that she was joking. When she didn't, he sighed. "You're _not _jerking my chain." Temari continued to remain silent as she focused her attention to a set of documents on her desk. "Shit, Tem, she's a Hyuga? You hired a fucking _Hyuga_ to work as Gaara's housekeeper?" A though then struck him. "Wait, Hanabi has a sister?" And he really wasn't sure what surprised him more. Hanabi had never spoken of having a sibling, and whenever he'd made the acquaintance of the Hyugas at charity events, there had only been Hanabi, so he had assumed she was an only child. And that said older sister had been hired as Gaara's housekeeper made absolutely no sense at all. Since when did an heiress choose a line of work considered demeaning for someone of her status? Had she been the applicant Temari had mentioned waiting to hear from? Had the pickings become so slim already?

One corner of Temari's mouth quirked upward. "Yes, Hanabi has a sister. And as for hiring a Hyuga, well, not technically," she stated, and chuckled at Kankuro's puzzled expression. "I hired Hinata _Higashi_." She handed him Hinata's resume.

"Let me see that." Kankuro briefly scanned the résumé before he tossed it back onto Temari's desk with a snort. The fact that he'd never heard of her until now coupled with the news of her alias, implied there was already some pre-existing issue there, some bad blood in the family, and he didn't want the Sabakus having any involvement with it whatsoever. "Bad idea," he stated.

"Too late, I just hired her."

"Then call her ass back and fire her." It was Kankuro's turn to gesture towards the door, but with his coffee. "That girl's all wrong for the job, Tem." Sending her over there would be like sending a lamb to a wolf. It'd be wrong on so many levels. "Not to mention her dad would a pain in the ass to deal with after Gaara gets his hands on her, and you _know_ he will." He sighed. Why did he suddenly feel as if they had traded places? It was usually Temari's place to worry over this kind of thing. The way she was acting, like she didn't see the recipe for disaster hiring Hinata was, puzzled him.

Temari's lips pursed. Kankuro's argument wasn't without merit, as she'd shared the same sentiment. That he picked up on it as quickly as she did only confirmed her own perception of Hinata. It was true Hinata should have held a bull's eye over her head, the target she looked, but if she really was as her sister Hanabi described her – diligent, discreet, and loyal – then perhaps she'd learn to overlook her shortcoming. Hell, perhaps she'd even learn to turn a deaf ear to that annoying stutter of hers. "She came highly recommended, Kankuro."

"By who?"

"Hanabi."

"And you take _her_ word for it?" _Her_ being the young woman who had maintained her sister's anonymous existence. That was, up until now. Kankuro scoffed. And he thought his family had issues. He shook his head. "You're reaching, Tem. You're fucking reaching."

It was a small world amongst the social elite, and it was common for many of them to run within the same circles. Kankuro had initially made Hanabi Hyuga's acquaintance at a charity benefit some time ago, and she'd made a horrible impression. He thought her a spoiled, elitist brat then, and still did now. He knew Temari had felt the same way – she'd voiced similar sentiments - so what the hell was up with her change of heart now? "So how'd this whole arrangement come about?"

"It was a trade off. She wanted some inside information into Sabaku Oil stocks, and I wanted a housekeeper for my kid brother." Temari shrugged. She knew it sounded ridiculous, but was angered nonetheless when Kankuro snorted his laughter. Her hands lifted and dropped on top of the desk with a thud. "And I suppose you have a better alternative?" Her tone was exasperated.

"Yeah, drop the whole housekeeper bit."

"You know I can't do that. Gaara's incapable of taking care of himself."

"No," Kankuro corrected, "that's what you _want_ to believe. It might do his ass some good to be forced to get out and actually interact with people. Whoa, there's an idea," he said sarcastically. "Look, Tem, he's not a fucking child, and no matter how hard you try, you'll never make up for his past so stop trying to."

Their eyes met and held in a silent challenge until Temari sighed and looked off outside her window. She crossed her arms over her shoulders.

To say that Gaara had a harsh childhood was an understatement, and Temari and Kankuro bore witness to the abuse that seemed to surround and pave the way of hardship that would define the early years of life. It had begun shortly after he was born, and their mother, Karura, had died minutes thereafter. She'd suffered Post Partum Hemorrhage, and the doctors had been unable to staunch the flow of blood. Temari remembered because she had been in the room when her mother had given birth to the tiny wet bundle of a newborn son that was Gaara. What was meant to be a joyous occasion had quickly turned into a nightmare a she had stood with her back pressed against a far wall. Her eyes were wide with horror as she witnessed her mother bleed to death right before her, all while the newborn infant had been cradled lovingly in her arms. He had hair like their father, a deep, brick red mane that mimicked the blood that poured forth from Karura's body. There'd been so much blood.

Their father hadn't been able to come to terms with Karura's passing and continued to blame Gaara up to his own death. His grief hadn't allowed him to accept his newborn son, to love him as his own, and he all too willingly relinquished the responsibility of raising him to Karura's younger brother, their uncle named Yashamaru. The arrangement had initially seemed like the most likely alternative for their father. He was the founder of Sabaku Oil, and it had been the ideal solution to his predicament of how to rid himself of the child while saving face amongst the public. After all, Gaara had been an infant in need of the kind of care that he couldn't provide. He was much too busy, and Temari and Kankuro were too young to be considered to shoulder the responsibility. Yashamaru's employment as a male nurse had made him more than qualified for the task.

Temari and Kankuro were so young when Gaara was whisked away, and though he was out of their sight, he was never out of their minds. They had tried to keep up with Gaara's whereabouts over the years, but it was difficult due to Yashamaru's constantly moving until the fateful day their father had received the news that Yashamaru had passed away. Temari was pretty confident that Gaara would be returned to them then as the option to retrieve him was granted their father, but that hadn't been the case as he'd terminated his own parental rights and placed Gaara up for adoption. Gaara was only seven years old at the time. And upon being placed in the system, Gaara would be bounced around from one home to the next for the next eight years, suffering such abuses along the way that it pained Temari to ever think about it, to know that she had a brother out there with whom she shared the same blood, the same family, and that she was in no position to help. After more years had passed, their father suffered sclerosis of the liver. He'd drunk himself sick, but too late had the sickness been detected, and it soon claimed his life a year later when she was eighteen years old, and Kankuro was seventeen.

It wasn't until after her father's death that Temari and Kankuro seriously considered retrieving Gaara, to bring him back home to where he belonged, to where he still had family that cared for him, but it would be another year before that came to fruition. Temari lowered her head when she remembered the state Gaara was in when they finally won him back in the courts, and he was returned to them.

They were so young, her and Kankuro. They had just had birthdays – she had just turned nineteen and he had just turned eighteen - and they were a jumble of nerves as they sat in the conference room at the office of child protective services and waited for Gaara to be brought to them. She remembered how the overworked case worker had eyed them with concern and forewarned them how important it was that they remain patient and realistic in their expectations of not only Gaara but themselves as well. But neither Temari nor Kankuro had wanted to listen. They felt the case worker grossly overstepped her bounds by telling them how to proceed with Gaara. He was their younger brother, after all. They were family. They would care for him. Besides, as heirs to an oil tycoon, it wasn't as if money had been a problem.

Temari chuckled dryly as the memories continued to unfold. She and Kankuro had been so immature to think they'd had it all figured out. But only, everything hadn't gone as smoothly. Because whoever they thought they were welcoming back into their lives was a far cry from who they were eventually reunited with when Gaara was ushered into the conference room dressed in clothes that were unkempt and ill-fitting. His green eyes were expressionless and told that he'd seen way too much way too soon, and experienced far worse. The road from that day forward had been paved with one hardship after another as they tried to close the gap their father had created, tried to atone their father's wrongs.

It just didn't seem fair. While she and Kankuro had grown with their parents' love, Gaara had been the one to bear the brunt of their father's hatred. She wasn't sure why, but she had felt guilty. So had she been guilty of what Kankuro accused her of, trying to make up to Gaara for his past? Or had she merely been trying to appease her own guilty feelings?

**A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while! But I promise you, the creative process doesn't come easily for me! I can't tell you how many chapters I have written for this story already only to go back, re-read, revise, delete, then go back, re-read, revise, delete... You get the picture! Once again, I tried to check for spelling/grammar, but it seems to me no matter how much I check, I always end up making mistakes! GGGRRRRR... I'll try to get the other chapters up sooner, but I can guarantee it won't happen until _after_ I've exhausted myself with my annoying perfectionism! I know there's a 12-step program out there somewhere! LOL! Thank you so so much for your patience, and enjoy! ; )**


	6. Chapter 6 (2)

CHAPTER SIX

It was at Temari's request when Gaara quietly strode into the office bright and early the next morning. Temari had called both him and Kankuro last night to report first thing, and from the sound of her voice, he knew that something was up, and that it wasn't good. When he entered, he quiet set his document carrier down on the corner of the desk and helped himself to a cup of coffee from the carafe before occupying one of the chairs before the desk and next to Kankuro, who contentedly sipped from yet another of his signature cups of coffee.

Temari's eyes followed Gaara. Though he cut a picture of casual elegance in a pair of jeans layered over a pair of boots, and a dark turtle neck, it was all she could to stifle a groan. Were both her brothers opposed to the occasional suit to the damned office?

When she phoned Gaara last night, her unease had released on a sigh on her end of the line when he finally answered. It wasn't because she was worried that she'd roused him from sound slumber that made her nervous about calling him. Because Gaara rarely slept, she knew the chances of him being asleep then were unlikely. Rather, she'd been discomforted by what she'd imagined him to be _doing_ at the moment. How had Kankuro termed it? Playing? Temari had grimaced. She hadn't even wanted to think about what that entailed, and slightly shook her head to clear her mind of the mental images it conjured. But she hadn't needed to worry. The fact that he'd answered as quickly as he had meant he hadn't been thus preoccupied. Or had it? Temari stifled a groan. She waited until Gaara had turned his expectant gaze on her before she began.

"I thank both of you for coming so early," she started. She reached into her own briefcase and produced three reports. She placed on the desk before her before she handed the other two to Kankuro and Gaara. "These outline the latest developments of SunaKon," she pointed out. "As you can see," she stated with an acknowledging nod in Gaara's direction, "the cost analysis does an excellent job of detailing the benefits of this project. It really is a win-win situation for Konoha and Sabaku Oil all around." She had received the cost analysis last night when Gaara had e-mailed the document to her.

And it was. SunaKon wasn't a new project. Its conception was the brainchild of their late father. Konoha didn't have an oil refinery of its own and was forced to import oil from the neighboring, oil-rich Sunagakure. Yet, over the years, it was discovered that transportation of the refined substance by product tankers posed too many risks that could be greatly lessened, if not completely obliterated, via the construction of a pipeline which would span the two nations and serve an alternate route of transportation.

"Okay," Kankuro stated as he lifted his arms wide. "Not to be rude, but we're already aware of this. We're retreading old ground. Hell, the way you sounded when you called, I was expecting a fire."

Temari offered a knowing smile as she retrieved a remote control from the top drawer of her desk. She lifted it toward the wall-mounted television and clicked it on to what appeared to be a protest taking place. "The _fire_," she stated pointedly, and raised her other hand towards the television as if to say _ta-daa_.

"Shit," Kankuro cursed. He bolted upright in his chair and raked his free hand through his hair. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Gaara's eyes only narrowed at the scene unfolding on the screen as he quietly sipped his coffee. He watched as a group of people dressed in matching green tee-shirts that read 'Leaf Villagers for Peace' stood in the direct path of a cluster of bulldozers that were forced to sit idly. "Environmentalists," he stated in his monotone. He watched as the construction workers, at a loss as to how to handle the crowd, at how to proceed, or even _if_ they should proceed, stood by helplessly. They almost looked relieved when their supervisor stepped forward and proceeded into a shouting match with who appeared to be the leader of the group, the mouthpiece. He continued to watch a moment longer until he'd had his fill. "Turn it off," was his simple command, and Temari was all too eager to obey.

"What are their grounds _this_ time?" Kankuro asked, openly aggravated, because this wasn't the first time Sabaku Oil had had to deal with environmentalists. He remembered they had to deal with the troublesome lot of them back in Suna, when they staged a demonstration against the oil refineries being built then.

Temari sighed. "Their argument this time is threat of possible fissures that could result in the pollution of the local wildlife. They're citing environmental hazards."

Kankuro snorted. "Mind you, this is the same group of people that once hailed wind turbines as the next best thing in alternate energy source. And after all that whining and lobbying to get them built, what did they do? They turned right around and started bitching that they harming the fucking birds." He rolled his eyes and helped himself to a generous swig of his coffee. If it wasn't one thing with them, it was something else.

Temari chuckled at this. She then folded her arms and turned to Gaara for his take. "What says you?"

Gaara eyes narrowed on Temari thoughtfully. He heard the disappointment in her voice. Winter was quickly advancing in Konoha, and the time when they would travel back to Suna was soon approaching. He knew she'd had her heart set on having more than half the project completed before then.

It was to his understanding that SunaKon had been their father's pet project that he'd attempted years ago, only to have it halted due to much of the same environmental hazardous concerns. Yet, at that time, there hadn't been a management tool in place to safeguard construction like there had been now. And as a result, only half of the pipe had been constructed from the oil refinery in Suna up to the border between Sunagakure and Konohagakure, where it had been sealed off and practically forgotten until now.

Gaara himself wasn't sure how he really felt about SunaKon. After all, it was his father's idea. He sighed. He did want to see SunaKon completed, but he knew it wasn't for quite the same reasons Temari and Kankuro had. He knew for them, the completion of SunaKon was some homage to their father to finish what he started, like a legacy. For Gaara, he really didn't give a fuck about honoring that asshole. Rather, it was just to see Temari and Kankuro happy, as they were his only family. Well, it was either because of that or the fact that it was his job, it was what he did. He really couldn't decide which it was.

Something he saw on the screen caused his gaze to redirect towards the television. It was easy to overlook, what with the camera zooming to various angles, but he was sure he saw something just there, in the corner…

"That land," Gaara wondered aloud, "who owns it?"

It was all he had to say when Temari quickly picked up on what he saying because she had seen it, too. It was so obvious, and if she didn't think she would look crazy for doing so, she could've face palmed herself for there being so stupid to not have noticed the little No Trespassing sign that was rendered inconspicuous by the shifting camera lens. "Gaara, you're a fucking genius."

Kankuro was clearly nonplussed as he stared back and forth between the two of them. "Okay, I just missed something. I don't know what, but I know I did."

Temari was already rifling through her briefcase before she turned towards them clutching another document in her hand that she handed to Kankuro.

Kankuro's lips spread into a smile. The land was government-restricted. The environmentalists were trespassing. "I'm already on it," he stated, and reached into his jeans pocket for his cell phone and made to call the police. He demanded that no action be taken against the demonstrators until he arrived. He personally wanted to witness firsthand when the cops booted their asses off the site. He stood and made towards the door. "If there's nothing else, I'll leave first." He turned toward them as he opened the door and leaned on it to back out. "Hey, Gaara, have I ever told you how grateful I am to have you on our team?"

"Hey," Temari scoffed. "I thought _I_ was the brains," she countered mockingly.

"_Naa_," Kankuro objected with a fake grimace. "You're the pretty one," Kankuro offered with a playful wink. But then the mirth in his eyes shifted into a hardened, knowing look that he pinned on Temari before he disappeared, and she knew what that look had meant. She had to talk with Gaara.

After Kankuro left and Temari and Gaara were alone, she heaved a sigh of relief that the situation with the protesters would be handled. She crossed to the carafe and poured herself a cup of coffee. Could I have a moment, Gaara? I'd like to talk with you." She held the carafe up in his direction to indicate a refill, but returned it when Gaara merely shook his head.

She resumed her seat and pinned her baby brother beneath the sternest gaze she could muster. "Just so you know, I hired a new housekeeper for you. She'll start tomorrow." She knew there was no mistaking the underlying message of her words and watched for his reaction. But, as usual, Gaara's steady gaze gave nothing away as he regarded her impassively. Damn it if she didn't get him to teach her that trick! She lowered her cup and thought a moment before she spoke again. "Gaara, I help to run an oil company. I don't have time to act as PR manager, too."

"Then don't," was his flat response. Though the news of a new housekeeper was a pleasant surprise, he nonetheless bristled. He had a feeling Temari was eventually going to want to talk about the article.

"How can I _not_, what with your bizarre behavior plastered for all to read?"

"Since when are you concerned about anything the press puts out?"

Her head dipped back in frustration at Gaara's nonchalance. How could she word it so that he understood? Setting her coffee aside, she lifted her elbows onto her desk and pressed her hands together beneath her chin. "Gaara," she started again from what she hoped was another angle, "Sabaku Oil is our legacy. Our father built this company, and we are obligated as his heirs to ensure that our name is synonymous with integrity."

Gaara's eyes intensified until they were as shards of emeralds. He knew Temari hadn't meant to sound so elitist. He understood her feelings, but he couldn't share in her sentiments. He wouldn't.

His gaze lowered to his cup in his hands. He was silent for a moment before he spoke. "And where do you think my father's sense of integrity and moral obligation was when the bastard decided not to have a damned thing to do with me?" He continued to stare quietly into his cup.

Temari's eyes hooded. She'd expected as much. "Gaara, I'm sorry," Temari stated softly. "But I have to know, do you resent us? Me and Kankuro?"

Gaara slowly shook his head as he lifted his gaze to her. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

Temari shrugged. "Because of how it was for you. Kankuro and I got to be raised with Mom and Dad. We got the best of them while you… didn't." She blinked once, slowly. "I understand if…"

"Not now, Temari," Gaara interjected. "It's not the time."

"Then when is the time, Gaara?"

"I don't know, Temari." Gaara groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. "I just don't know, alright?" He glanced around the room before he stood. "Look, I'm going to leave. Call me with the update with Kankuro later."

"Gaara," Temari called after him, but it was if he didn't hear her when he collected his briefcase and strode towards the door. "Okay, alright," Temari conceded with a nod. She didn't say another word as he exited as quietly as he'd entered. She slowly stood and crossed to the window and stared into the distance at nothing in particular.

It was always like that when she tried to talk with him. He always clammed up and shut her out. She knew she was wrong to have said what she did when she accused him of lacking principles, and the fact that she was just venting frustration didn't justify such a cheap shot. The fact was, Gaara simply didn't feel the way she did, that he possibly never would. And it wasn't his fault.

_Damn it._ Gaara sighed aloud as he slid his bulk into the leather bucket seat behind the steering wheel. He leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose again as he allowed himself a moment for his anger to abate. He then revved the engine of his car and eased it into traffic. He hadn't wanted to cut out on Temari so quickly, but he also hadn't wanted to unleash on her, either. If his temper was a speedometer, it would shoot from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds at the mere mention of his father.

Temari had shocked him when she asked him what she had, because no one had been comfortable enough in the past to breach conversation about all that had happened. In the last decade since he'd been reunited with Temari and Kankuro, they still hadn't had the _talk_. It was as if everything had simply been collected and shoved beneath the rug where it grew into the elephant in the room that was always present whenever they were together in a single space. They all saw it, but no one dared acknowledge its presence. That was, until now.

He was grateful his siblings had still thought of him enough, cared for him enough, to bring him back home. But did he ever resent them? He tossed Temari's question in his mind. There was no doubt he envied them. Temari was right that she and Kankuro had both been raised to feel their parents' love, had experienced the stability of the family nucleus, whereas he hadn't. That his mother had died as soon as she had absolved her of any misgivings, but what had been his father's excuse? What the hell had he done to warrant his father's hatred other than to be born?

He was suddenly eater to get back to the suite where he could relax with a drink while awaiting updates on the news of the protest. He raked a hand through his hair and pressed harder on the pedal and steered in the direction of what he thought was the hotel, but a glance around revealed that he had subconsciously driven to the spot where he had almost run into the brunette with the hollow eyes. And it was as if she had materialized from his thoughts when he looked and beheld the young, raven-haired woman as she passed in front of his car at the intersection with a slightly lowered head. Her arms were wrapped around herself in an effort to ward off the chill as she walked. Though he could only see her profile, he knew it was her. There was something guarded about the way she held herself that he felt he recognized from that night. His eyes raked over her figure. Her simple attire was a complete three-sixty from the scruffy jeans and sweatshirt she wore when he first made her acquaintance that night, and which had done her curves absolutely no justice. Because while the man in him admired her modesty, the male in him responded to the way the wind now pressed her clothing against her to reveal the slight heave of her full breasts inside her sweater, the gentle sway of her hips. He hadn't thought to ever see her again, and began wondering at the old adage of good things coming in threes. Would were the chances he'd see her yet again? He certainly hoped to be able to.

He shifted the car into drive when the light turned green and he proceeded towards the proper direction of his home. His eyes narrowed as he began to fantasize what she would look like helplessly bound, gagged, and her curves dressed in PVC lingerie.

The day had witnessed a newly employed Hinata preparing for her first day of work tomorrow morning. Because she knew there would be days after she started working where she would be too tired to clean her own home, she spent a greater portion of the morning cleaning her apartment from top to bottom until it was clean, or at least as clean as she could get it, because no matter how much elbow grease she applied, there had never been any amount of scrubbing that could do undo much of the set in dirt and grime. It had been there prior to her moving in years ago, and only managed to accumulate since then. Afterward, she decided to head to the grocers when her stomach rumbled with hunger. She quickly dressed in a thigh-length sweater dress, leggings, and flats, and as the day had burned into late afternoon, she decided her attire was choice against the lowering temperatures.

As she walked, she thought of Sunagakure. She was still nervous about the upcoming trip there, and wondered what to expect. What was the desert like, anyway? Did it ever get cold? Did it rain? Of course it rained. She rolled her eyes. The question was how often did it rain? But regardless of the answers, she decided it would just be nice to not have to trudge to work in the snow everyday for a change.

When she exited the grocers, her stomach grumbled again. She headed toward a nearby vending cart where she detected the aromatic scent of steamed sweet potato. She approached and ordered one. She waited as the vendor carefully removed an aluminum-foil covered sweet potato from inside the heated cart with a pair of tongs and placed it inside a small paper bag. She then paid and sauntered over to a neighboring newspaper stand as she mentally reviewed the last details of her interview. She was due to start early tomorrow, where she would be expected to show up at the address Temari scribbled on a piece of stationary paper along with the starting pay she could expect to receive. Her eyes had practically bulged at the figures written, but she had quickly recovered and nodded her head in appreciation.

She spotted two young girls that looked to be in their early twenties standing and reading a newspaper article with their heads bowed together.

"I swear, he is so fucking hot," she heard one girl state.

"Yeah," agreed the second one as she nodded her head, "but if only he wasn't so damned… _twisted_."

"Whatever," the first girl scoffed. "I'd still fuck him."

"You know that poor housekeeper's probably traumatized now." Again from the first girl, and the two of them giggled.

"Oh, please," the second girl chimed. "It's probably the best fuck she's ever had." Again their laughter rang out in the crisp breeze.

Hinata carefully balanced the plastic grocery bags as she peeled back the foil and the skin from a bit of the potato – both of them hot to the touch – and took a small, cautious bite of its tender sweetness. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but it was the mention of a housekeeper that caught her attention; an occupational hazard, perhaps. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she inched closer to peer sideways at the newspaper. Her eyes suddenly honed on only two of the words in the bold black headline, Sabaku Oil. Her interest sparked, she then turned and spotted where a stack of the newspapers were on display in a wire rack. She absently wiped her fingers on the foil before she reached a hand out to retrieve one, but was instantly reprimanded by the vendor in charge.

"Hey, hey, lady, you want to read, you pay!"

Hinata immediately recoiled as if she'd been struck. "Oh, s-sorry," she mumbled. She reached her hand into her coin purse and extracted a bill. She waited until the vendor returned her change before she selected one of the papers. She crossed to a nearby bench and sat down, careful not to drop her lunch as she quickly located the article in the Lifestyle section. And as she read, her eyes grew wider and wider until they were as saucers by the time she reached the end of the article. Her eyes then rooted on the photo of Gaara Sabaku, her new employer that she had just been hired to work for, starting tomorrow.

**A/N: Okay, just you guys know, I do NOT hate environmentalists! I repeat, I do NOT hate environmentalists! I myself adore nature, but as it is when I write, I try to assume the mindset of the characters I am creating, like what I would imagine them doing, how I imagine them thinking or feeling, even if it's not something I would personally do, or not how I would think or feel. **

**Also, Gaara and Hinata will meet soon. I wasn't purposely delaying their meeting. I just wanted to create a scenario as to who they are, what their lives are like, before I had them interact so quickly. I only hope I was successful in doing that. As for the grammar/spelling errors, hey, I tried. **

**Enjoy! ; )**


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

She realized it would have been simple enough to do to call Temari Sabaku right back and immediately decline the position. So why hadn't she? Hinata sat at her kitchen table the next morning, wincing at the pain as she gently prodded the intricate stitching that sutured the gash in her forearm with her fingers. She glanced at the newspaper that lay open to the article on the table before her and next to the omelet she prepared but hadn't touched. She couldn't eat. At least not for the knots of nervousness her stomach was twisted into as to what she could expect when she showed up at Gaara Sabaku's residence.

Because she was still going, wasn't she?

Of course she was still going. She smoothed the material of her uniform as she stood and picked up her plate. She lifted the lid of the garbage can by pressing the pedal at the bottom with one support-hose clad foot and scraped her uneaten breakfast into it. After washing the dishes and putting them away, she poured a cup of coffee and then spiked it with a stream of alcohol. She watched as the clear liquid disappeared into coffee, and when she swallowed, her eyes immediately watered and she tapped a hand against her chest as the hot liquid burned down her throat. She coughed once before turning to gaze out the window over her sink into the dark, pre-dawn sky.

She had thought about it last night, at the odd manner in which she was hired so quickly on the spot. It was her experience for potential employers to reserve a couple days to check her references before offering her the job. Temari had barely glanced at the references she included with her résumé. Hinata's brows knit together as she began to recall quite a few details. She remembered Hanabi mentioning Gaara's high turnover rate, and even the starting pay she was offered was generous. It was all enough to warrant concern. Usually, a housekeeper could expect such pay after a prolonged time of employment, and she wondered if it was an incentive for her to take the job? She sighed. That she really needed the money was the only justification she could think of as to why she was still going through with the job, else she probably would have turned it down without a moment's hesitation. Or would she? She still grasped the cup in her hands as she turned to lean her back against the sink and glanced at the newspaper on the table.

To turn down the job due to an article she read in the Lifestyle section meant that she bought into what was written, which was basically gossip, and since when in the hell did she ever do that? Hinata had never been able to stomach gossip in any form, be it the celebrity news gossip shows or the cheap tabloids that lined the check-out counters at the grocers. And the fact that the article was the former housekeeper's personal account of all that had supposedly transpired hadn't made it any more true, had it? Besides, it was one person's account, and Hinata always believed there were two sides to every story. So what had been Gaara's?

Thoughts of the brow-less red head with the intense green eyes surfaced. She remembered how concerned he'd been for her welfare the night of their near accident, and his offer to take her to the emergency room that she had declined. He was so considerate that she had a hard time imagining him to be anything like how he was described in the article. The corners of her mouth lifted wryly. It was a bizarre twist of fate that he'd been the one that she was working for now. She wondered if he'd feel the same way, but decided against it. Hell, he probably wouldn't even recognize her, which really would be for the better because she still reeled with embarrassment whenever she remembered the way she carelessly stepped off the curb and into the path of his oncoming car. Where the hell had her mind been? She downed what was left of her drink and proceeded to wash the cup before returning it to the cabinet. She further reasoned.

She'd worked as a housekeeper long enough to know that there were boundaries; that there were clear, unseen margins that existed between employer and employee. She'd maintained enough homes – for families and singletons alike - to know that rule of thumb was to mind her job and never get involved in the personal affairs of her employers, to never set foot beyond the parameters of the neatly confined box that outlined her duties. So what had she to be nervous about? Provided there was any truth to her claim, the former housekeeper had ventured beyond her duties by inviting Gaara's advances and therefore breached the boundaries. Hinata scoffed. She was smarter than that.

Besides, now that she knew her father watched her every move, she had a feeling he and Hanabi were cheering her failure from the sidelines. She remembered the smug, knowing smile Hanabi had flashed her when she pushed the paper to her across the table. They were waiting for her to fall flat on her face, to come running back home, defeated, like a dog with its tail between its legs, where they could continue to control her. Only, she wouldn't give them the benefit. Her mom had found her way out, and though Hinata didn't judge her decision to take her own life, she had decided upon an alternate route. She would work hard to become truly independent, to prove to her family that she didn't need the Hyuga wealth or influence to make it.

Back in her bathroom, she quickly brushed her teeth gargled a bit of mouthwash before donning what was left of her uniform, the crisp, white apron that sported two deep pockets at the front and tied around her waist. She crossed into her bedroom and gave herself a quick once over. The simple, short-sleeved, A-lined, black dress was a standard uniform she'd worn on all her jobs. She was grateful she'd managed to keep it in such good condition as she hadn't the funds to purchase another. She had pulled her hair into thick ponytail that hung down her back. Because she never bothered with makeup while working, she instead applied a light moisturizer to her freshly cleansed face. After she ensured she was the picture of efficiency, she shrugged her arms into the sleeves of her black cardigan and placed her keys and small wallet into its pockets. She then crossed to the front door where she slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable black flats and headed outside.

The sun had slowly begun to rise when she exited, and she paused to inhale the cool wind deeply into her lungs. Now that her mind was solidified around her decision to press forward with her new job, she was surprised to feel as if a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She would make this job work, she decided firmly. And even when it came time to travel to Sunagakure, she would continue to be the epitome of professionalism, and make sure they never regretted hiring her. But her resolve faltered ever so slightly when she stood outside and across the street from the building.

That Temari hadn't told her Gaara stayed in none other than The Hotel Hyuga at Konoha hadn't mattered, because she should have recognized the address. Her eyes stretched the looming length of the hotel from the ground floor all the way up to the penthouse suite at the very top, to where Gaara resided. Well, not exactly _resided_, she corrected herself, seeing as how it was a hotel. But going by what Temari had stated, that he permanently reserved the space as his choice of residence whenever he sojourned in Konoha, she figured it was as good a word to describe his stay here.

The hotel was just one in the chain of luxury hotels that her family owned not only in Konoha, but beyond as well. And as she crossed the street, she noted the familiar white exterior that, though it wasn't able to be detected as the sun hadn't yet fully rose, she knew was embedded with a crushed crystal mixture that would glisten and reflect the light of the sunlight. It was standard design that had become the exclusive trademark design of all the Hyuga Hotels. She took the sidewalk that skirted the hotel's immaculately manicured grounds currently being tended by groundskeepers and led towards the employees' entrance she remembered was located in the rear. As she walked, she noted the valet attendants that stood at the ready in front of the hotel's entrance beneath a well-lit portico. At the rear, delivery trucks had already arrived to transport an array of consumer goods of linens, foods, and beverages.

Entering, she located the office of the supervisor of the housekeeping department where she introduced herself as Gaara Sabaku's new personal housekeeper. She ignored the knowing smile the older woman gave her. Hinata produced her I.D. and waited for her arrival to be confirmed. The Hotel Hyuga was no different from the standard hotel in that it employed its own staff of housekeepers, but there were instances where guests preferred the employ of their own personal help over what the hotel offered, and such was her case. It never ceased to amaze Hinata the privileges money could grant.

She turned and watched when a few of the hotel's staff housekeepers arrived and secured their personal belongings in small lockers that lined the wall. They were dressed in matching short-sleeved, A-line dresses in a pale pastel with aprons tied about their waists in similar fashion to the one Hinata wore. They then walked to the storage area outside where cleaning carts were kept, assigned, and eventually stocked with cleaning supplies and extra linens. Her attention was redirected when the housekeeping supervisor addressed her. Yes, the supervisor confirmed as she returned the receiver back onto the phone that sat on her desk, they'd been alerted of her identity, and her arrival had been expected. Hinata accepted the spare card key to Gaara's suite that had been left there for her before she was pointed toward a set of elevators reserved for employee use. When an elevator attendant offered to see her up, and she stated the penthouse as her destination to him, she fought a wave of irritation when he served her the same, knowing smile that the housekeeping supervisor had. She decided that either Gaara's reputation preceded him, or people were more gossipmongers than she credited them. She hoped it was the latter. As the elevator began its climb upward, she couldn't help but feel as if the cart had been placed before the horse. It was customary for her to meet her employer _before_ she started working for them, and not the other way around. But perhaps that hadn't mattered as she'd already been screened by Temari.

The car finally reached the penthouse floor, and Hinata's flats were silent upon the tile flooring when she exited. She crossed to the front door and paused a moment to nervously smooth her hands over her apron. She checked the security of her ponytail and then shook her bangs from her eyes with a toss of her head before lifting a finger to press against the doorbell. She decided against using the card key as it would be too rude to freely enter to the residence on the first day. She hadn't waited long before the door was opened, and her eyes had remained lowered as she gave a slight bow of her head.

On the other side of the door, Gaara sighed as he lazily crossed to open the door. He'd been awake for a good portion of the night discussing the direction of SunaKon with Temari and Kankuro on a three-way conference call. They then discussed the upcoming trip back to Suna which would be at the end of the week, and when they concluded their call, it had been nearly two in the morning. He would have liked to sleep for two days, but decided that crashing 'til noon would work, too, provided he could even get to sleep. Damn insomnia. When he finally opened the door, it was to find a brunette standing before him with lowered head.

"Good m-morning, Mr. S-Sabaku," she stated, and it wasn't until she lifted her head and tossed the hair of her bangs back from her face with a flick of her head that Gaara instantly recognized her. "I'm Hinata, your n-new housekeeper."

Hinata lifted her head to find him regarding her with much the same intensity as he had the night he had almost hit her. His black-ringed eyes had deepened to the most penetrating shade of green she'd ever witnessed, and she almost shrank back beneath their force. His hair, a most vibrant shade of red, was now slightly mussed and hung to curl against the collar of the army green tee-shirt he wore. It was parted over his left eye and revealed a peculiar tattoo there, of the kanji 'love' in red ink. And he was tall, Hinata noticed. Though he didn't necessarily tower over her, he was still tall enough that she had to slightly incline her head backwards to fully encompass him.

Gaara had been taken aback at the revelation of his new housekeeper's identity, but he quickly composed himself. He stood back and opened the door wide for Hinata to enter.

As she crossed the threshold, Hinata's heart began to thud in her chest. But from what, fear? She sighed. She really wished she hadn't read that article yesterday, because hadn't she been through this in her mind already all last night, and earlier this morning? Hadn't she already decided what her position was regarding the article? After all, she herself didn't even know the man. And until he proved himself other than a decent individual, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. It was only fair.

Hinata waited until Gaara closed the door and walked pass her. He motioned toward a small coat closet behind the front door, and Hinata immediately understood as she shrugged off her cardigan and hung it on an empty hanger within. She removed her flats and neatly placed them next to other pairs neatly organized shoes before slipping her feet into one of the extra pair of slippers reserved there for guests.

She waited as he crossed to the wet bar and fixed himself a drink and then followed him as he led her through the spacious penthouse on a brief tour. He began by pointing out the utility closet in which was stored a utility carrier that was still stocked with an assortment of cleaning supplies as well as other tools for her to use. He casually lifted his drink at the entrance of each room they passed as he announced it; this was the master bedroom, the master bath, and so on. She was silently smug with the knowledge that she was already familiar with the layout; that her father hired the architect to design it according to his idea. Yet, she continued to listen attentively and nodded her understanding when he verbalized his expectations. And when they reached the kitchen, he gestured toward a drawer there in which petty cash was kept and would be replenished. With it she was to purchase cleaning supplies as well as groceries.

The brief tour concluded where they began, in the center of the living room, and Gaara dipped his head to down the rest of his drink before he rested his eyes on her curiously. "How is your arm?"

"O-oh," Hinata started, and her hand immediately went to the bandage on the underside of her forearm on her other arm. She nodded. "It's f-fine."

Gaara watched as her eyes widened in shock and her skin flushed a bright crimson underneath. "You didn't think I recognized you," he surmised, and it was as if she was trying to fold into herself the way she crossed her arms around her middle.

"I-I…" When her words failed her, she sighed, paused, and tried again. "I w-wasn't sure if y-you had." Rather, she had hoped he hadn't, but knew better to say it aloud.

He responded with a small nod. "Do you always stutter when you speak?" He remembered the way she had stuttered that night on the curb beneath the streetlights, but at the time he had just chocked it up to nerves, that she had just been scared. After all, she had almost been hit. But now that he she was standing before him, he realized it was a speech impairment. His eyes narrowed. That would take some getting used to.

Hinata's blush deepened as Gaara continued to watch her, as if in thought. She heard him sigh. "I usually work from home," he stated, and gestured to the desk off to one corner of the living room, "but will head to the office on occasion. My schedule is routine, and you'll come to familiarize yourself with it, but if there's ever a change I'll give you the heads up beforehand. By the way, were you issued an extra card key?" Hinata nodded. "Good, then feel free to use it from now on. There won't be a need to sound the doorbell."

"Umm, c-can I get you anything n-now?" Hinata asked. It was still early enough for breakfast, and Gaara's tour had been thorough. She could easily locate everything she needed.

Gaara gave a shake of his head and lifted the glass to indicate his drink had been sufficient. He realized he'd have to postpone trying to get some sleep and shrugged. It hadn't mattered, as he rarely slept anyways. Besides, he had work to do.

The corner of his mouth twitched wryly when he handed his glass to Hinata and she slightly jumped. She looked down into it to find that it was empty save for a few half-melted cubes of ice.

"Welcome to my home, Hinata."

Gaara had given Hinata free reign as to the method she employed when cleaning. And because it was her usual pattern to begin from the back and work to the front, she crossed into the expanse of the darkened bedroom. She immediately drew the curtains open with a drawstring located behind the folds of the one of the panels and blinked against the light of the bright sun as it poured in to chase away the darkness of the room. She then turned to assess the room and stopped short at what she saw.

She was familiar enough with the interior of the Hyuga Hotel to know that the current headboard wasn't part of the original design. Though her father had seen to the room's layout, it was her mother who had teamed up with the interior designers to decide on the plan, design, and furnishings of the interior. So she was surprised to see that the padded, tailor made headboard that had been outfitted for the suite's bedroom had been removed and replaced with a headboard made of what looked like wrought iron, and that was lined inside with long, vertical spindles. How odd. Hitching her dress up as she lifted one knee onto the bed, she braced herself on one arm as she leaned forward to further examine the headboard. She flinched and quickly drew back when her hand pressed onto something hard beneath the edge of one of the pillows, and she curiously lifted it to reveal a pair of… _handcuffs_?

A/N: I seriously tried to check for spelling/grammar errors, but then it dawned on me. I absolutely hate reading - or _**re**_-reading - my own writing. Seriously, it's one of the most _**boooring**_ things. *siiigh* But oh, let me give you a heads up on the next chapter. It's just a filler chapter, so don't expect much from it but the fluff that it is. It's just that I needed a chapter to kind of separate the scenes because I thought it would be weird to jump straight from this chapter right into the action, which won't be until chapter 9. That's where Gaara starts to unleash on our poor, unsuspecting Hinata.

~ 12 ~


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Temari rolled onto her back with a soft thud and lifted a hand to smooth her sweat-dampened hair back from her face. Shit, she needed that! She turned towards the man next to her when he nudged her arm, and she accepted the cigarette he offered her. Good, it was already lit. She savored the taste of the nicotine as she inhaled and drew it deeply into her lungs. Nothing, and absolutely nothing, rivaled a smoke after good sex.

"You want to talk about it?" Shikamaru Nara asked as he drew on a cigarette of his own. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

Temari turned to eye Shikamaru frowningly. "Who the hell said there was anything to talk about?" She asked.

Shikamaru smiled. He knew she was going to respond that way. It was one of the things he liked about Temari. She wasn't like any of the other women he'd dated in the past. She used sex to de-stress, and she didn't care to cuddle or spoon afterwards. He'd found that out the hard way after the first time they had sex and he automatically assumed she wanted to cuddle but wound up retreating back to his side of the bed with an aching rib because she elbowed him and stated she required at least two feet of space after sex so she could cool the fuck off. And when she was really upset over something, she didn't' like to talk about it; like now.

Shikamaru shrugged. "You were like a madwoman just then. And you only get like that when you're really bothered over something," he drawled in his unhurried manner of speaking.

Temari huffed. He was always so perceptive where she was concerned, always able to discern her true feelings without her ever having to verbalize them. And she didn't know whether she found that endearing or just plain creepy. But he was right. She had been bothered. Ever since she and Kankuro disagreed over her hiring Hinata, she had been worried that he'd been right after all that she had made an error in judgment.

"Shika," she started, using the nickname she had for him, "you attended school here in Konoha all your life, right?" Shikamaru nodded. "Then, have you ever known anyone named Hinata Hyuga?"

"You mean Hyuga as in The Hotel Hyuga?" And it really was a senseless question as there had only been one Hyuga family in Konoha. He watched when Temari nodded. "Who the hell hasn't heard of them?" He nodded as he drew on his cigarette again. "But yeah, I knew a Hinata Hyuga. We went to school together."

"What do you know about her? I mean, from what you can remember?"

Shikamaru's brows knitted. "So, what, are you a P.I. now or something? Ouch!" He yelped when Temari rolled on her side facing him and pinched the flesh of his torso.

"I don't need to be a P.I. when I already have a cop boyfriend at my disposal, so just tell me what you know of her already."

Shikamaru frowned thoughtfully as he turned to extinguish the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray on the nightstand. He then lifted the ashtray and held it out for Temari to do the same. After he returned it to the nightstand, he lied back down and crossed his arms beneath his head. "Well," he began, "I don't know much to say, except that I remember she was always really nice. She was quiet, too, you know, but kind of withdrawn, a bit of a loner." He scoffed. "But I guess she couldn't help it, growing up in _that_ house."

One of Temari's brows arched. "What's that supposed to mean?" She watched as Shikamaru extracted one arm from behind his head to rake his hair back from the front. His hair had been one of the first things she noticed about him, and she had fantasized what it would be like to run her fingers through his thick, raven mane. She loved it even more when it was free of his signature ponytail and allowed to hang slightly past his shoulders from the part at the center.

"Well, to say her father was overbearing is putting it mildly." His chocolate eyes remained narrowed on the ceiling in remembrance. "He insisted on her coming to school with bodyguards every day, and I swear it was so strange to see this little girl with her own entourage, like her own personal posse and shit. No, really, it's true," he added when Temari giggled. But he had to admit, it was comical to think about it now, about the team of men in black suits and ties with permanently attached ear pieces that always swarmed around her. He always wondered how she managed to function beneath that level of strict security, beneath those ever-watchful eyes.

"Well," Temari stated after she collected herself, "you have to admit it was needed. I mean, after all, she was the daughter of a billionaire hotelier." And she could relate. After all, hadn't she grown up the daughter of an oil tycoon? She had known what it was like to be raised amidst ever-present security. The body guards were as normal a fixture in her life as the servants they employed. She reached a hand out and smoothed her index finger along one of Shikamaru's brows, tracing the thin slanted arch of hair above his eye. But her gesture was aborted when Shikamaru rolled his eyes and hoisted himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed. She sighed. He always reacted that way when talk of her life was broached. It bothered him, and she wasn't necessarily sure why. She knew he wasn't jealous of her wealth, he wasn't the type. And she definitely couldn't help the fact she was born into the wealthy family she had been. So what the hell had his problem been? She wondered as she pulled herself into a sitting position. She drew her knees up and folded her arms on top of them. She had been about to speak when he cut her off.

"Wait, what did you mean when you said Hinata _was _the daughter of a billionaire hotelier?" He quickly angled his gaze at Temari over his shoulder when a thought struck him. "Did something happen to her?"

Ever-perceptive, Temari thought and sighed. But then again, what could she expect from a police officer? She supposed it aided him in his line of work to possess keen insight. "You remember how I told you I just hired a new housekeeper for Gaara?" Shikamaru nodded. They had talked about that earlier. "Well, I hired a young woman named Miss Higashi." She watched as Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders as if to say there was no news there. "I hired a Miss _Hinata_ Higashi." She waited for her words to have their effect, to sink in, and they did because his eyes widened just before he actually laughed out loud. "Do you think I made a mistake by hiring her?" She lifted her hands and began inspecting her nails. "Kankuro seems to think so."

Shikamaru collected himself before he stood to pull his jeans over his nakedness. He then reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand and selected another one that he lit. He lifted the pack towards Temari to offer her another one, but dropped it back on the nightstand when she declined with a shake of her head.

Shikamaru exhaled and watched Temari through a haze of smoke. "Oh, yeah?" He stated with one arched brow. "And what else does Kankuro say?"

Temari sucked her teeth. "He says that Hinata's all wrong for the job, like sending a lamb to the wolf." And she knew she didn't have to explain that Gaara was the so-called wolf. Shikamaru had been familiar with her family's dysfunction, at the rumors that swirled about Gaara.

"Right," Shikamaru had stated, but it sounded far-off, like his mind was elsewhere. "Hmmm," he stated momentarily, "so _that's_ what happened to her."

"That's what happened to _whom_?"

Shikamaru resumed his seat on the side of the bed. "No, I was just thinking about Hinata." He turned his body to view Temari fully. "It was middle school, I think. It was the last year just before we were to start high school, when her mother committed suicide."

Temari gasped. She definitely hadn't known about that. "What had made her do such a thing?"

Shikamaru exhaled smoke. "I told you Mr. Hyuga was overbearing, didn't I?"

But to kill herself, Temari wondered incredulously. "What about her Hinata and Hanabi?"

"Hey, I'm not one to judge, but from what I heard – and this is only what I _heard_, mind you – there was some abuse going on in that house." His eyes squinted as he drew on his cigarette again and shrugged. "Apparently Mr. Hyuga was heavy-handed where his wife was concerned, if you know what I mean."

Temari's eyes hooded. So Mr. Hyuga had hit his wife. She sighed. Why some men felt the need to inflict such violence on their wives was beyond her ability to comprehend. She was only grateful that hadn't been the case with her parents. Her father had adored her mother. She was saddened that Hinata and Hanabi hadn't been afforded the ability to grow up in a household with parents as loving as her own. How sad it must have been for them. But if what Shikamaru said was true, it did answer some questions about Hinata, and why she was the way she was. Temari recalled the insecure manner Hinata had presented herself, and she was instantly seized by an idea.

"Wait, you don't think Mr. Hyuga abused Hinata, too, do you?"

Shikamaru's lips pursed this time as he extinguished his cigarette. He then shook his head slowly. "Some believed she was, but not physically. With her, it was more verbal, you know, emotional and psychological. That I know because I saw it firsthand. He had no problem going off on her in front of others at the school. And you just couldn't help but just feel sorry for her because she was so nice, and it pissed you off to see her be treated that way. Hell, it pissed you off even more because she would just _take_ it."

It was probably the only way she knew to deal with it, Temari thought. Though she had only met Hinata once, during the interview, she did get that harmless vibe from her. But she didn't agree that physical abuse was any more hurtful than verbal, emotional, or psychological abuse. Words had the potential to inflict as much pain, if not far worse, than a hand when cracked across the face. And unlike physical scars that could heal, the scars left in the wake of verbal, emotional, and psychological abuse often proved far more indelible.

"But after high school," Shikamaru continued, "no one heard anything about her anymore. Neither of the Hyugas ever mentioned her, so it was as if she had just disappeared."

Temari mused. That must have been when she assumed her fake identity and started eking a living for herself as a housekeeper. No doubt she probably moved out soon after, too; it seemed the next plausible move in a situation like that. She couldn't help but draw parallels between Hinata and Gaara. Damn, she thought, it seemed like bad shit always had a way of happening to people who didn't seem to deserve it. It was all just so unfair.

"And no one thought to alert the authorities when she practically went missing?"

Shikamaru shook his head. "Probably because everyone knew it wouldn't do any good. Mr. Hyuga's got officials in his pockets."

Temari waved that bit of information away with a dismissive hand. It wasn't as if she hadn't heard _that _story before. Her own father had been known to buy off an official or two in his lifetime as well.

"So, hiring Hinata as Gaara's housekeeper? What says you?" She steered the conversation back to her intention for asking about Hinata in the first place.

"How the hell would I know?"

"C'mon, Shika, I really want your input. I'm practically begging here."

Shikamaru chuckled. Temari, beg? Highly unlikely, but he admitted it did have a certain appeal to it. But as to her question, he really didn't know what she expected to hear from him. She'd already told him she hired Hinata, so it was a done deal, wasn't it? And that was so like Temari. She often charged ahead with her own course of action, and consulted with him only after she second guessed herself afterwards.

"Kankuro seems to think we'll have to duke it out with Mr. Hyuga in the courts if Gaara so much as lays a hand on her."

"I disagree," Shikamaru stated.

Temari's brows arched. "Really," she stated curiously. "And why is that?"

"Look, this is the man who practically disowned his daughter. I seriously doubt he's going to care one way or the other about that."

Temari's eyes lowered. Her heart softened for Hinata. What must it be like to have a parent not give a damn about what happened to you? But she supposed Shikamaru was right. Rather, she hoped he was right, because she stuck by what she said to Kankuro about Gaara being incapable of caring for his self. And besides, they were due to fly out the day after tomorrow and it was too late to make any changes.

She moaned and reached for Shikamaru as lie back on the bed. She was in need of another, thorough de-stressing.

A/N: I _**told**_ you this was just a filler chapter, didn't I? Moving on, moving on. I decided to speed things up a bit, and the next chapter is the result. Hinata finally comes face-to-face with Gaara's sexual fetishes. It's just the beginning, so don't expect too much! And the spelling/grammatical errors? You know the drill, right?


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The trip to Sunagakure was tomorrow, and Hinata couldn't wait. Gaara was even allowing her to leave home early that day to finishing packing. Her stomach had been aflutter with butterflies when Temari Sabaku had called her last night to inform her that a driver would be sent to pick her up and deliver her to the fixed based operator at the airport where they would meet up before taking the Sabakus' private family jet to Sunagakure. Hinata had only half listened as she'd been aware of the procedure. Her father had always preferred the exclusive use of the Hyuga family's private charter whenever he traveled as well, so that hadn't been why she'd been so excited. Rather, she couldn't wait to see what the desert was like! Like so many other places she'd longed to travel to but had never been afforded the opportunity, she'd only had books and travel brochures to rely on whenever she wanted to learn of any other place. But only this time, she was going to finally get to experience another place up front for herself.

It was amazing how time flew, and before Hinata knew it, one week had flown by. It hadn't taken but a couple days to develop a routine she felt comfortable with and perfected to the point where she could devote more attention to other details, like the lunch she now prepared for Gaara. She mused as she worked.

She thought about her initial discomfort at Gaara's constant presence. She was afraid he would prove demanding and micromanage her every move. But that hadn't been the case as it had been as if he hadn't been there. She soon learned that he was a bit of a recluse. When she came to work, it was always to find him at the penthouse, either on the phone, quietly at work at the computer, or virtually attending an online conference. He'd yet to leave the house for some work-related matter or to venture anywhere else. Well, at least not during the hours when she was there, because there was evidence that he was seeing someone.

At least twice since she started she'd come to work for him she had found the same pair of handcuffs fastened to the rungs of the headboard, so she knew he had entertained someone in the evening. And whether that mystery person arrived on her own accord or he drove round to scoop her, or sent for her, she didn't know. Nor had she cared. It simply wasn't her business. She felt guilty that she'd ever harbored any anxieties about working for Gaara. She chided herself that she'd allowed herself to get worked up over some article and decided that she'd been right all along, that his former housekeepers had been to blame for whatever may have transpired between them and Gaara.

She also found that Gaara was a stickler for routine. Though he gave her free reign as to how she conducted her job, there were nonetheless certain things he was adamant about having regularly, like his meals for instance. And even if it was only for her boss, Hinata was pleased nonetheless to have someone to cater to. She had always loved to cook, but as a single woman, she hadn't anyone in her life to spoil with her cooking. She decided it was nice to be able to flex her culinary skills again, and was currently in her element slicing tomatoes and cucumbers for the vegetarian sandwiches she would make on toasted wheat bread. She had already prepared the homemade hummus that she had set aside. Soup was simmering on the stove over low heat, and a salad chilled in the fridge. She had heeded his instructions to create a light, simple, and meatless meal. And as she began assembling the sandwiches, she was oblivious of the green eyes watching her.

Gaara passed a hand over his eyes as he slowly lowered the monitor of his laptop. He cast a glance to the afternoon sky outside before sliding his eyes towards the small kitchenette where a delicious aroma of some meal Hinata prepared emanated from. She seemed to enjoy her task, and he was all too content to watch her as she worked. A small smile played about her lips, and every so often she lifted an arm to brush the hair from her eyes. He noticed the way her tongue snaked out at the corner of her mouth when she concentrated, much the way a child would when trying to figure out a new toy. He marveled at the fascination her small gestures had over him, and he shifted in his seat when he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of restlessness that he knew hadn't been born of lack of sleep because he hadn't felt tired. He realized it had been a while since his last housekeeper. And though he knew he had the escort at his disposal, Gaara was restless to entertain himself with the new toy that was his newest housekeeper. But he wondered how he should approach her.

Hinata was a bit of an enigma, and that certainly hadn't been a bad thing as for him, as it was synonymous with a challenge. She was different from the housekeepers he employed in the past. He had never let on to either Temari or Kankuro what was the truth about his former housekeepers, that they'd all been nothing but a gaggle of gold diggers who saw a meal ticket in him. They'd been so blatantly obvious in their tactics – the way they shamelessly threw themselves at him – that he'd often felt embarrassed for them. But little did they know that their crass and tasteless behavior made it easy for him to take advantage of them. That is, _if_ what he had done could be considered as taking advantage. Because they'd been out to use him, to get whatever they could out of him, much the same way the many foster families had that he was forced to live with. They hadn't cared about him, hadn't given a damn, so long as the checks kept coming every month. So no, he didn't consider it taking advantage of his former housekeepers when he treated them to a glimpse of what it would mean to be with him. And just as he had expected, every single one of them had fled. Damn cowards. Damn, gold-digging cowards.

So why hadn't Hinata made her move yet? The fact that she'd only been employed for him a week hadn't mattered. His former housekeepers had made their intentions known in less time. She hadn't displayed an interest in him, or even in getting to know him. What was her angle? Surely she had one. They all did. And so did she. But since he and his family were due to leave out tomorrow, he decided he'd rather she leave sooner than later. He had no intention of being forced to endure the company of another, insincere gold digger back in his homeland. His lips practically twitched at the plan he hatched.

Gaara rose and went to the wet bar where he fixed himself a drink. He then crossed to the kitchenette where he bent at the waist and leaned onto the counter where he silently nursed his drink while watching Hinata.

He knew she was unaware of the manner in which he watched her while she worked. And it had been like dangling a carrot before a rabbit or a steak before a hungry canine the way she beckoned him as she crossed back and forth before while dressed in that hideous uniform. It mimicked that getup she'd been wearing the night he almost hit her by doing her figure no justice. And he remembered the sweater and leggings he had seen her in that day she was crossing the street. He remembered the fullness of her breasts, her small waist that flared into the curve of her hips, and her slender legs. And now that he'd been granted a hint as to what her clothing concealed beneath, it was if her uniform taunted him.

Hinata worked silently and never spoke unless it was to announce it was time for him to eat whatever meal she had prepared, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. And she'd definitely been a better cook. His last housekeepers had sorely lacked in that department, and he had wondered if Temari had failed to mention the requirement of that most important skill when she had screened the applicants. He hadn't been able to stomach their cooking and had begun ordering out instead. But after sampling Hinata's cooking, he had preferred it even to the takeout he'd come to rely on. He watched as she turned to exit the kitchen but gasped to find him at the counter.

"Oh," Hinata started, "Mr. S-Sabaku!" She hadn't heard him approach. "I w-was just going to t-tell you that l-lunch…"

"I'll take it in the dining room this time," he stated, cutting her off. He usually ate at the bar but had decided differently today.

"Oh, o-okay," she stated. She retrieved one plate and some silverware before preceding him into the dining room. She then went back to the kitchen and returned with two bowls. She arranged them into proper place setting and then stood back as Gaara took his seat. His eyes appreciatively glanced over the meal before landing on her, watching her, as she described each dish.

Hinata gestured to the main dish as she spoke, suddenly nervous beneath his penetrating gaze. "Y-you mentioned y-you were in the m-mood for something light and m-meatless, so I d-decided on these vegetarian sandwiches m-made with sliced tomatoes and c-cucumbers on t-toasted bread, and a h-homemade hummus." She sighed as she gestured to a bowl. "T-this is light tomato soup and t-this," she then gestured towards the second bowl, "is a s-simple green salad." She heaved a deep sigh as she finished. She averted her gaze from his as she waited for him to try the food. But when he only continued to watch her, she gave a slight nod of her head and turned to leave only to be halted by the sound of his voice.

"A refill, please," he requested and gestured toward the open bottle of alcohol at the wet bar. He watched as Hinata fetched the bottle and proceeded to pour the liquid.

And she was sure it was because of her heightened discomfort at having him watch her so steadily that her hands shook, and she accidently missed the glass and spilled the drink on the table.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as one hand flew to her mouth. "I'm s-so s-sorry," she gushed. "I'll g-get something to c-clean it up." She instantly set the bottle down and scurried off to the kitchen and returned with a dampened rag that she used to soak and dab at the spill. She chided herself her clumsiness and risked a glance in Gaara's way to find his eyes narrowed on her. After cleaning the spill, she stood clutching the rag and bowed low. "I apologize, Mr. S-Sabaku."

"Just Gaara, please," was Gaara's monotone reply.

Hinata never agreed with addressing her employers so informally and she silently responded with a polite nod. "G-Gaara, then," she stated with a lowered head. Color stole across her cheeks.

Gaara noted her blush and inclined his head. Was she always so easily flustered? He found himself certainly hoping so. It intrigued him.

"Do I make you nervous, Hinata?"

"Oh, yes," she gushed, and was instantly contrite when she realized her folly. "I-I mean, no, n-not really..." Suddenly confused, Hinata gave a slight shake of her head. If only her hands would stop shaking! If only he would stop staring at her like that!

Gaara lifted the bottle and proceeded to pour the drink himself, and slyly allowed a bit of the alcohol to miss the glass as well. "Oh, well, look at that," he mocked in his monotone.

Hinata instantly reached out with the rag to clean the spill that Gaara had made this time, but gasped when his hand proved quicker and clasped her wrist in a strong, vice-like grip. "No," he commanded. "Not with the rag," he stated and shook his head, "but with your tongue."

Hinata went stock still with shock. "Excuse m-me?" she whispered.

Gaara's gaze still held hers as his head inclined toward the spill on the table. "Lick it." He watched as her eyes widened with disbelief. Her blush had deepened to a lovely crimson.

"I… I…" Hinata shook her head, too stunned to speak, to form a coherent sentence.

"Insubordinate so soon?" Gaara asked, and Hinata watched as the skin beneath his kanji tattoo lifted where a brow would if he had them, and it was much like the way she had remembered the night after he had almost hit her, and they stood beneath the light of the street lamp.

Their gazes met and held. And Hinata would never know what compelled her to do what she did next. Had it been because he'd called her insubordinate, and she'd been afraid that he would fire her? That had to be it. What other explanation had there been? There wasn't one, was there?

Hinata placed the rag at a distance from her on the table as she quickly bent at the waist and just as quickly stuck the tip of her tongue into the spilled liquid. She then straightened and lifted a hand to her mouth as she gazed back at Gaara. His expression was one of amusement.

"No," he objected in a voice that was suddenly soft, as if he had been reprimanding a child. A feeling of fear kindled in Hinata's stomach when Gaara stood and came to stand directly behind her. He leaned close to her as he spoke, and she could feel his breath, hot against her ear. "I said _lick_ it," he repeated, and it was as if his voice had dipped an octave lower. Had that even been possible? Hinata wondered.

She felt him grasp her ponytail in his hand and wrap it around and around his palm much like someone would a rope. He then gripped the base of her ponytail, where it was secured with a ponytail holder, and proceeded to press the back of her head down until she bent low over the table. Her face was mere inches from the spill now.

"Lick it," was his command again, and Hinata tentatively reached her tongue out to press into the spilled liquid again. "Lap at it like a dog would at its drink."

Hinata's eyes pressed tightly closed as she pressed her tongue into the liquid again to do as he instructed. To lap at it… the way a dog would its drink. She lifted her now trembling hands and placed on them the table on either side of her head. And just as she pressed her tongue back into the spill, she yelled out loud and her body jerked forward beneath the weight of his hand as it came crashing against her behind. Her body was stunned stiff. She blinked her eyes against the shock and she slowly risked a glance behind her, but Gaara redirected her face back to the table with a jerk of her hair that made her wince.

Hinata's entire body was frozen, and her eyes widened into saucers again the way they had the first time she had read the article about Gaara. The article she had decided to ignore like so much trifling gossip, because she had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. How could she have been so wrong? How could… She yelled out loud again when he drew his hand back and delivered another punishing blow to her rear end, and her body jerked forward again beneath the force of his hand.

Behind her, Gaara's audible breaths were deep and ragged. He bent over her and deeply inhaled the scent of her hair. The hand in her hair worked itself in her thick mane while his other hand proceeded to massage the fullness of her derriere, kneading the soft flesh there like the most malleable of clay. Damn it if she hadn't felt good! And her yells were wreaking havoc on his libido, fanning the flames of his desire to a feverish pitch. He cursed the material of the offending dress. It was in his way, obstructing his view, and he had to see her for himself with a naked eye. He immediately yanked the hem of her dress up over her waist. He grabbed the thin material of the stocking and forcefully ripped the support hose she wore. He moaned deep within his throat as he gazed at her. The alabaster skin of her derriere was slightly reddened where he had spanked her. But it wasn't enough. He wanted her in tears. He wanted her scared, like his former housekeepers had been. Terrified had been more like it. Because he was a monster after all, wasn't he? Sick and twisted? Wasn't that how his last housekeeper had described him in that damned article?

Hinata cried out when Gaara's hold in her hair tightened, and he began to slowly pull her head up and backward, causing her body to arch inward to the table. Unbeknownst to her, her derriere had turned upward and granted easier access. It was just what Gaara had wanted, and he continued where he had left off, raining blows on the tender flesh of her now naked behind. The blows were a quick and steady succession of heavy and stinging pain, one right behind the other, and it was all Hinata could do to press her hands against the table as hard as she could to keep from being jerked forward so harshly. She gritted her teeth together and squeezed her eyes tightly together as Gaara continued to spank her mercilessly, praying it would end soon. And it was when Hinata could endure it no longer that she began to fully cry, when tears streamed down her face, that Gaara had finally, thankfully, ceased.

Gaara leaned over Hinata again, and brushed his lips against her ear as he spoke. "See you at the airport tomorrow," he stated and Hinata could detect the mockery in his tone. "If you dare," he added and released his hold on her with a slight shove as he righted himself.

Hinata slowly righted herself, wincing in pain at the stinging sensation in her behind. She slowly swiped an arm across her tear-stained face. Glancing down at herself, she slowly pulled the hem of her dress back down to its proper, respectable length. She righted her apron and reached to adjust her ponytail and winced at the pain there, too. Her support hose that Gaara had ripped now sagged around her ankles, and she slowly stooped against the pain to remove them. Her head dipped back after she stood and gazed up at the ceiling while she collected her breath. She then turned to Gaara where he now stood at the wet bar nursing a drink he had poured himself. Their gazes locked, and Hinata couldn't help but think how his eyes had transformed. The night he had almost hit her, they were full of concern as he came to her assistance. But now, they looked ominous, like green slits in a sea of black. She sighed deeply. The skin of her behind stung fiercely as she walked stiffly over to the coat closet where she silently changed back into her flats and slipped her arms back into her cardigan.

She turned to Gaara as he crossed to the front door. And for what, she wondered, to see her out? How courteous. And to think, she had given him the benefit of the doubt.

"Y-you asshole," she hurled at him before she turned to leave.

A/N: Ah, poor Hinata! ~tsk tsk tsk~ Doesn't she know that it's always best to go wth your gut instinct? Oh, but that's right, she needs the money doesn't she? Well, she's in an ever ruder awakening when Gaara gets her to himself in the middle of the desert! LOL! I'm having entirely too much fun, aren't I?

~ 11 ~


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

_Zzzip. _

The sound of the suitcase as Hinata bent at the waist and zipped it closed was loud in the silence of her bedroom. Straightening, she absently ran her hands over her hips as she glanced about to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, and immediately winced at the lingering ache in her backside. Her skin there was still sore from yesterday afternoon when Gaara had _spanked_ her – the word alone caused her to blush just to think of it - and it hurt to even wear the jeans she wore as the rough material grazed against her tender flesh that had darkened into a bluish, purplish bruise. Even the trek home yesterday had seemed to stretch on forever, and it was all she could do to clench her teeth against the stinging pain.

She had thought about the bizarre incident last night when she had soaked in a tub of cool water to ease the flaming pain in her behind and made slow work of a bottle of alcohol. That Gaara had been trying to scare her was the only conclusion Hinata could come to, that for whatever reason he had not wanted her to travel to Sunagakure. It was the only way she could make sense of what happened. But why? Hinata wondered. What threat had she posed that he felt the need to act out on her in such a manner?

_See you at the airport tomorrow. If you dare._

Hanabi had told her of Gaara's reputation for being hard to work for, but Hinata had a suspicion this was about more than just being an obstinate employer. And even though she had decided she was not going to allow him to frighten her, to intimidate her away from a job she so desperately needed right now, her desire to fight back was borne of something else.

For as long as she could remember, Hinata had always been the subject of harassment. And for as long as she could remember, she had passively bore it. She sometimes wondered if she had some message inscribed on her forehead that she didn't know about, a plea for others to bully her that was unseen only to her, because for the life of her it was as if there were others always mistreating her for reasons that would forever remain unknown to her. What was it about her that made others react to her way they did?

Her life had been rife with intimidation that had stemmed from the likes of her father and her little sister. Even the bullying she suffered by the other kids in school growing up probably would have been worse had it not been for the damned security guards her father had hired to protect her! And now it seemed her boss stood the chance of being added to her list of oppressors, too. Had it really been because of what her father had said about her, that she was too weak and too soft? It was obviously Gaara's perception of her as well, or he would never have behaved as degradingly as he had. It angered her that people thought her so easily manipulated.

She pressed a hand to the side of her head and shook it against the mob of ugly voices that whirled with hateful epithets: "Too soft!" "So damned weak!" "Coward!" She knew now that she needed to change. It would be the only way to declutter that area of her mind in which she had allowed all the negative comments about her to nest over the years. And maybe it was easy enough to do, like turning off a radio with a simple twist of the dial. And like so, Hinata had lifted a hand from the water to turn an imaginary dial in the air. And the voices grew dimmer and dimmer until they were silenced, and all was made calm. It had amused her drunken mind at the time, and she had laughed aloud and hiccupped into the darkened bathroom that was illuminated only by the light of the moon as it made its way in through the window over the toilet.

Hinata shifted to the present. She sighed as she gripped her suitcase by its handle and hefted it to her front door. Once there, she went down a mental checklist as she turned and glanced around her apartment for what would be the last time over the course of the next few months. Everything had been readied for her trip, and all that was needed for her to do was to leave. And she knew that once she walked out her front door, her decision was made. There would be no turning back. And it was as well because there simply hadn't been anything to turn back to. Besides, she wouldn't run away from whatever awaited her in Suna. She ran away from her family when she left home. She was already running away from her life in Konoha by taking this trip to Suna. She wouldn't run from Gaara and his antics either because, quite frankly, she was tired of running. That wasn't to say she was not afraid because she was, immensely so. She had no idea what awaited her in Sunagakure, or of what to expect when she was sure to be alone with Gaara in his home. But whatever it was, she would face it head on.

She opened her door to the driver who stood there, and relinquished her suitcase to his care. She turned to lock her door and then followed him out to the car where he escorted her into the back seat before securing her suitcase into the trunk. She snuggled inside her cardigan against the chill as the smell of the leather interior enveloped her as the driver drove her to the airport. And as he drove, Hinata felt as if one chapter of her life was closing while a new was only beginning.

In the lounge of the fixed base operator, Temari sighed irritably. "Where the hell is she?" She muttered as she scanned the empty parking lot when Hinata had still failed to show. She wheeled to Kankuro as he came to stand next to her. "Were you able to contact the driver?" Kankuro nodded. "_Well_," Temari questioned anxiously when he didn't respond, "what did he say?"

Kankuro took a generous bite of a fresh, Texas-sized blueberry muffin he selected from a three-tier pastry tray of baked goods that had been set out for their convenience next to a pot of steaming hot coffee. "He said they were on their way," he stated around a mouthful of food, "and it's not like they're late, so relax already." But she wouldn't relax, despite him telling her to. Temari was a stickler for time. For her, to be early was to be on time and to be on time was to be late. He lifted his half-eaten muffin before her. "Sure you won't have one? These are so damned good." When Temari rolled her eyes in response, he shrugged and turned to have a seat on one of the plush sofas in the lounge.

Temari rested a hand on her hip as her eyes then leveled on Gaara who stood a ways from her. He was his usual tableau of indifference as he sipped a cup of coffee while staring into the distance beyond the windows. "Gaara, you were the last to see her yesterday. Did she mention she'd be running late?" She asked when she joined him by his side.

Gaara shrugged lazily. "Since when did I become her keeper?" He responded before lapsing into silence again.

But of course, Temari thought sarcastically. Her arms lifted to cross over her chest as she continued to stare at his profile with a narrowed gaze. She realized that it was futile trying to read his body language as it never belied his speech. It also hadn't mattered that he wore shades that hid his eyes because even without them, his gaze wouldn't disclose anything, either. Gaara was simply impossible to make out.

A corner of Gaara's mouth twitched at one corner when Temari eventually turned away with a derisive suck of her teeth. Judging the way she eyed him, she probably suspected him of foul play, but he hadn't cared. All that had mattered was that he'd gotten rid of Hinata, and he was more than confident that he had. Soon he and his siblings would be aboard the private jet that would transport them back to Suna, and it would be all he'd ever see or hear of Hinata again.

Though, her departure wasn't without some regret on his part. The events of yesterday afternoon replayed in his mind, and he could feel himself growing anxious again. The feel of her flesh still lingered on his fingers, and he rubbed them together as he recalled how soft her behind had felt, how supple her skin there was when it sprang back beneath each of the stinging blows he had delivered. It was truly a most intriguing sight to behold, the way her skin had reddened so becomingly, and it had taken all of his strength not to take her from behind then and there, with her so conveniently bent over the dining room table the way she was.

He was so sexually charged by the time Hinata left that he had no choice but to make use of the escort again, and even she had commented that he'd been rougher than usual; not that she complained. And it had been as if Gaara was trying to exorcise himself of his desire for the hollow-eyed brunette as he unleashed his passion for Hinata onto the escort until he himself collapsed, too spent to move a muscle.

It apparently hadn't been meant to be, he thought with a final shrug as he sipped his coffee. Fate had deemed Hinata a hit and miss. She was the one that got away, and he was content with that. His return home would prove all the more relaxing without having to endure her presence. Besides, she would have eventually only run to the press with her own version of what took place during the time she was employed by him, anyway. So the way he saw it, he was simply doing himself a favor by running her away. It spared himself in the long run of being implicated in yet another scandal. And even though it would piss Temari off to know that he had run Hinata off, she would just have to get over it. Besides, housekeepers came a dime a damned dozen, so it would be easy to secure one back home for the time being.

Gaara's mind began to shift to work-related thoughts when the driver finally showed and eased the car into one of the parking lanes in front of the building. He watched as the chauffeur exited and made his way around the rear of the car to the backseat on the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door. Gaara's breath momentarily ceased when Hinata exited. Long tendrils of her mane caught on the wind and blew about her face in a soft, raven halo, and he watched with narrowed eyes as she easily tucked and secured them behind her ears with a swipe of her hand. The corner of his lip lifted into a sneer as his eyes followed her into the building.

_What the fuck was she doing here?_

"There you are," Temari had sighed with relief as she crossed to meet Hinata when she entered. The two of them were quickly engaged in conversation in regards the trip as Temari guided her to the customs official that was present.

Gaara continued to behold the brunette as she produced her passport and I.D. to be validated. He waited until she had finished and was checked in before he made his way over to her in long strides. He gripped Hinata by the arm and forcefully guided her off at a distance.

"Gaara, what the hell…!" Temari exclaimed. She stepped forward to intervene but was halted by Kankuro's restraining hand on her arm.

Gaara ignored Temari as he yanked his shades off and bent low to Hinata's ear. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" He spat in a low and angry voice.

"My j-j-job," was Hinata's shaky reply. She was openly jarred because it was as if Gaara had appeared out of nowhere. She swallowed a lump of fear as she risked a glance up into his face. His eyes were narrowed slits of jade as he angrily peered down at her.

"Your job, you say?" Gaara scoffed. "Then apparently you didn't get my _message_," he challenged by referencing yesterday. He felt Hinata tremble in his grasp, watched as she averted her gaze, and that blush that he'd become so fond of instantly stole over the blotchy complexion of her face. His mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smirk.

Hinata's earlier courage began to falter, and she realized a resolution for change was one thing in theory, and yet quite another to actually implement. What had seemed so simple to her in a state of intoxication had turned out harder to conceptualize while sober. But difficult didn't mean impossible, she chided herself. And nothing was without an origin or a point of conception.

"Let go of me," she commanded softly, her gaze still averted.

"Not until you tell me what you're up to," Gaara demanded as his grip tightened.

Hinata lifted her eyes to his. "W-what I'm up t-to?"

"Gaara, that's enough," Temari's voice announced authoritatively as she approached them. Her lips pressed together disapprovingly when Gaara hissed and released Hinata's arm as if the contact with her had been distasteful.

"It's f-fine," Hinata assured as Kankuro had approached, his face etched with concern. She then turned her gaze back to Gaara, who continued to regard her with a piercing stare that she was sure would cause any to second-guess crossing him. She took a deep breath as she squared her shoulders.

"Just so y-you know," she started, unaware of the fact that Temari and Kankuro had approached behind her and heard everything she was saying, "I read the article about y-you, and still accepted the position regardless of it because I decided to give y-you the benefit of the d-damned doubt. I was hired to do a j-job, and I intend to d-do just that." She gave a small shake of her head, her gaze level with his despite having to slightly incline her head backward to do so. "Y-you don't scare me, Mr. Sabaku."

The tension was palpable between them as Gaara's eyes, glittering with an indiscernible emotion, locked with Hinata's own clear and pearlescent ones.

"Well," Temari stated after a pause with a raise of her brows. "I suppose that's our cue. Shall we?" A smug smile played her lips, and she slipped on her sunglasses to conceal the mirth that danced in her eyes.

Even Kankuro's expression was one of amusement as he lightly tossed what had to be his third muffin up into the air and caught it. "I suppose we shall," he stated. "After you, ladies," he stated. He stepped aside and lifted his arm in a dramatic, sweeping gesture as Temari led the way outside to where they would board their waiting charter.

Gaara slid his shades back into place over his eyes as they followed Hinata's movement. He inwardly bristled at what he interpreted as a challenge issued by her.

_You don't scare me, Mr. Sabaku. _

So she'd been aware of the article, and taken the job regardless of the gossip that swirled around him. To give him the benefit of the doubt, she had said. Gaara's eyes narrowed as he watched Hinata exit the building. He didn't know whether to credit her with bravery or stupidity. He silently scoffed. Well, supposing it was the former, they would both see how long her courage held out once they settled in Suna, which he was confident wouldn't be long. He would personally see to it that it wasn't.

Gaara paused after he exited the building. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he turned his face upward toward the breeze and deeply inhaled the crisp air into his lungs. His anger was pacified when he pondered how quickly the tides had turned in his favor. What he initially foresaw as an uneventful stay back in Suna had suddenly become full of so many intriguing possibilities with the new toy had had to play with that was Hinata.

And play with her, Gaara damn well would. It was a ways to go until spring.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Though the flight to Sunagakure was relatively short, it still proved the opportune time for Hinata to learn about the neighboring nation, and Temari and Kankuro both were a wealth of information as they answered all her questions on a range of topics from the weather to the economy.

An unsociable and taciturn Gaara was reclined in a plush seat catty corner to the one Hinata sat in. He listened with half interest while his siblings plied the apt brunette with stats of their homeland. He instead preoccupied himself with a study of her profile from behind his sunglasses he still wore despite the comfortably lit interior of the charter. He watched as Hinata's earlier shyness had abated only to be replaced with a look of intense focus as Temari spoke. Her delicate brows knit in concentration beneath the fringe of her bang, and the tip of her tongue occasionally darted out to moisten her lips. It amused him that a mere housekeeper would express so much interest in such details as the types of goods Suna imported and exported. Neither of his past housekeepers had ever posed such intelligent questions. They had never impressed him as being learned in anything other than the self-serving arts of seduction and deception. His eyes continued to focus as he wondered at her background. She was an enigma indeed.

He briefly entertained the possibility that she was an undercover journalist hired to do a story on him. A far-fetched idea, he knew, but not wholly unheard of. Gaara had personally witnessed firsthand the great lengths paparazzi and journalists alike were notorious for going to capture that scandalous photo or to get that juicy scoop. He recalled how he had once ordered room service, and a photographer had hid himself on the lower shelf of a room service cart that was draped on all sides by linen. The poor room service attendant had been scared and ran screaming. And to this day Gaara was still unable to figure out how the man managed to fold his bulk to fit into cart like that. Then there had been the journalist who had posed as a prostitute, and Gaara had immediately known something was up when she kept probing him with questions, because never in the history of _hookerdom_ did whores ply their trade with the art of conversation. But what if Hinata truly was an undercover journalist or photographer? How far would she be willing to go for her trade? Gaara felt himself grow anxious again, and he shifted in his seat.

Hinata wasn't the most attractive woman he had ever met. Though the woman's body rivaled that of Venus, she was by no means a raving beauty. The fullness of her face and hollow eyes rendered her features more striking than beautiful. Despite the blotchiness of her complexion that he knew resulted from over-indulgence in drink that managed to rob it of its natural luster, her features nonetheless possessed an eerie, almost unearthly _je ne sais quoi_ that made her interesting to look at.

Conversation halted as the charter soon landed at another fixed based operator at Sunagakure International Airport, and the party's luggage was quickly divided and transferred into the load space of one SUV and the trunks of two cars that were at the ready for them, but only the two cars were equipped with drivers poised to deliver their parties to their destinations.

Hinata was grateful she bore the cool in Konoha by donning her simple cardigan that she now removed, because the high temperature was like nothing she had ever experienced. When she descended from the charter, she had the express feeling like she was stepping into an oven, and it was with grateful haste that she climbed into the passenger seat of the air-conditioned SUV when ushered to do so by Kankuro. After she settled in her seat and secured the seatbelt around her, she was shocked when Temari came and extended her hand toward her. She lifted quizzical eyes to the smiling blonde.

Temari read the question in Hinata's eyes and chuckled good-naturedly as they shook hands in a manner that was friendly and parting. "My brothers and I may run a company together, Hinata, and may even travel together on occasion, but by no means do we _live _together." She watched as Hinata's face flushed crimson and shook her head. "You know, you really ought to work on that. Gaara might get the wrong message." She winked mischievously before slipping her shades back on. "You haven't seen the last of me. I'll give you a call to check on you after I've settled. And should you need to contact me for anything sooner, feel free. Gaara has my number."

Hinata nodded mutely. Kankuro was next as he stepped forward and extended his hand as well. "Welcome to Suna, Hinata," he stated kindly. He released her hand and lifted his in an open-palmed wave. "See you around." Hinata smiled weakly in response to his wink. She watched as he bumped fists with Gaara and pecked a kiss on his sister's cheek before folding himself into the backseat of one of the waiting cars that sped him away. And as Temari followed suit in the other car, Hinata had the sinking feeling that her safety net had disappeared, and that she was being left alone and defenseless with a predator. She suppressed a fear that kindled in the pit of her stomach as Gaara crossed around the SUV and slid in behind the wheel next to her.

Gaara's eyes narrowed when Hinata pressed closer to the door. So much for being afforded the benefit of the damned doubt. "Contrary to whatever you may have read in that damned article, I don't bite," he assured. _At least not yet anyway_, he thought smugly to himself as he started the engine.

Hinata decided to ignore his taunt and instead turned her burning face away from his scrutiny to focus her attention out the window. She sighed as the SUV came to life and decided to focus on the terrain.

During the ride, her unease was soon overcome with excitement as she contentedly watched as the desert zipped pass outside the window in a blur of varying shades of browns and beiges dotted with the green of looming palm trees and other brightly colored flora. She occasionally craned her neck to trail the length of skyscrapers as the stretched into the sky. She noted the dress of many of the citizens – long and light-colored clothing - and remembered when Temari explained to her during the flight that it was a protective measure against the heat of the scorching sun to cover in such a manner. Temari also advised Hinata that she should dress likewise, and stated that she would be granted the opportunity to shop and purchase all that she would need.

As Gaara proceeded on the winding highway that stretched further into the vast desert, buildings became sparse, and there was soon nothing to fill Hinata's view except the varying, rugged slopes of the mountains. The ground itself was a thinly spread carpet of cacti, sagebrush, and other prickly, shrubby plants Hinata was unfamiliar with. Gusts of sand whirled about in strong wind currents. She swallowed around a lump of apprehension when the vehicle continued to venture further away from what she termed civilization – bright lights, tall buildings, and fast-moving cars - and she nervously wondered exactly where it was in the desert Gaara actually resided.

She recalled some of the photos of Suna that she had seen on the internet, of some of the citizens who still lived as nomads even to this day and slept in tents made of animal skins that they transported on the backs of pack camels. The mental image of Gaara living in such a manner caused her to smile. She cautiously risked a furtive, sideways glance at him and was relieved to find that he remained focused on the road. His mind seemed elsewhere as he commanded the vehicle. Emboldened, she tucked the veil of her hair behind her ear as she inclined toward him to study him fully.

His hair had been mussed earlier by the wind as they descended the craft. He had removed his sunglasses and loosely hooked them in the collar at the front of his long-sleeved tee. He had rolled his sleeves back just past his elbows, and her eyes trailed along the sinewy muscle there. Her eyes dipped lower to his chest that gently rose and fell with each breath he drew and released, and then reversed their trek back up to his strong jaw line, over the sleek chisel of his cheekbone. She avoided looking into his eyes.

She wondered at the odd turn of events. It was only yesterday that he had abused her, and here she was now, the very _next_ day, driving with him to his home which, by the looks of it, seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. And no matter how many times she tried to will it away, she knew the image she had of herself being sprawled over his table was one she'd never forget as long as she lived. She hoped she had made the right decision in coming. After all, who was to say he wouldn't act out on her again? She quickly pacified herself by remembering that Temari and Kankuro knew of her whereabouts and would intervene on her behalf should the need ever arise. She silently prayed that the need never arose.

It was almost like a mirage when, after a series of turns within the mountainous landscape, Gaara's home finally came into view to loom like a mirage in the distance. Hinata straightened in her seat to look at the expanse of house as Gaara pulled up in front on a circular driveway. He exited and came round to open the door for Hinata who was grateful to be able to properly stretch her muscles as she exited and stood. She stepped aside as Gaara closed the door and then turned to gaze at the house. And was shocked. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't the nondescript, two-storied structure that modestly stood before her now.

The exterior was the same shade as the sandy dunes that stretched into the distance behind the home. It was also weathered and looked as if it had seen better days. And from what she could see from where she stood, a smattering of palm trees bordering the property was the only sign of plant life to be found. It barely looked as if anyone resided there, and was a gross letdown to what she had expected. And what had she expected Gaara would live in? She wondered, and supposed she had envisioned the oil tycoon heir residing in some sort of gauche, modern, architectural mess of glass and steel that would prove at odds with the remote desert location. And why, she couldn't understand, but it comforted her to know she was wrong.

She shrugged her shoulders as she came to stand at a respectable distance behind Gaara as he unlocked the front door to his home. She frowned when the massive door creaked on its hinges as it swung open. He had retrieved her suitcase from the load space of the SUV and placed it just in the front door upon entering. Gaara then stood aside and lifted his arm in a silent act of welcome, and followed Hinata with his eyes as she breezed past him on a scent of something soft and feminine.

When Hinata entered, she realized her folly when the interior proved to be in stark contrast to the exterior. The marble floors were the color of deep, rich wine that gleamed with a high shine and complemented the eggshell color of the bare walls that bore no art. The rafters that were fashioned into an open truss ceiling design, as well as the heavy, teak wood furniture, were all stained a dark, chocolate brown. The ascetic feel of the home gave her the impression of a monastery.

"Your room is this way," he stated as he closed the door. "Allow me."

"Thank y-you," Hinata offered when Gaara lifted the trolley handle of her suitcase and pulled it along behind him. The small wheels barely made a sound against the cool floors as she followed. She turned her head about to drink in the décor as she spoke next. "Y-you have a very lovely home, Mr. Sabaku."

"Thank you," Gaara accepted. He then halted and turned toward her. "And I thought I told you to call me Gaara," his eye twinkled mischievously, "now that we are so _intimately_ acquainted."

Hinata squared her shoulders. She remembered Temari's words and willed herself not to blush. "I'll be sure t-to keep that in m-mind, _Mr. Sabaku_," she stated with an emphasis on the honorific, preferring to ignore what was his reference to what had transpired yesterday back in Konoha. She had a feeling he was trying to goad her into some kind of reaction, to create a trap that she would unknowingly fall into. Well, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction!

Their eyes met and held until he eventually turned and continued to lead the way to the guest room she would reside in for the duration of her stay. He stood aside and allowed her to enter the room first.

The décor was once again simple, but this time the furniture was a modern, matching, dark chocolate suite that included a dresser, a chest of drawers, a night stand, and head and footboard of a queen-sized bed that were all infused with a decorative, silver-toned detailing. Next to a single, large window, a plush, high-backed chair was positioned next to a small side table. Matching lamps rested on both the table and the night stand. Hinata stepped into the adjoining bathroom and sighed with relief to find that it was installed with a separate, glass enclosed shower at the end of the garden tub. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper shower, as her apartment wasn't equipped with one, and she practically itched to make use of it.

"Nothing fancy," Gaara stated with a shrug, "but hopefully it'll prove sufficient during your stay."

Hinata objected with a shake of her head. "Oh, no, it's lovely. Thank y-you," she gushed and turned to where he stood in the doorway, leaning with folded arms against the door frame. He regarded her with that intense gaze of his, and she suddenly felt as if she should say something to fill the space. "The exterior d-doesn't do y-your home justice, though." She watched as his eyes widened in surprise by her statement. "S-sorry," she quickly recanted as she realized her offensive statement. "I didn't m-mean to imply that y-your home wasn't attractive…"

"No, it's perfectly fine," he stated with a slight heave of his shoulders. "Actually, the exterior was intentional for two reasons." He nodded his head towards the window behind Hinata to indicate the desert outside. "These parts were at one time notorious for bandits that scoured the area. They raided many of the nomads. The original owners had wanted to thwart any attention by making the exterior as unassuming as possible, but at the same time make sure that it was habitable. After all, it is the desert. So they settled on the use of adobe bricks." He shrugged. "The bricks are a baked mixture of straw and clay that serve as an excellent insulation against the heat as well as the cold in the evenings."

Hinata nodded. She remembered Temari had mentioning that bit of information back on the plane. Temari had also explained to her that it also rained in Suna, but only in the cooler months, so Hinata was in luck. She had always loved the rain, and thus felt excited to experience rain in the desert. Inclining he head towards the window, she fleetingly wondered what the rain would look like against the back drop of the desert. She then returned to Gaara to ask another question that came to her mind.

"W-what made you decide to live at such a r-remote location?" She watched as his eyes became hooded at her question, and she was afraid she had said something offensive again.

"Does the location bother you?" And he was sure of her answer. This was the desert, after all, and Hinata was from Konoha. She was a city girl. No doubt the desert wouldn't be to her liking.

"I actually p-prefer the quiet as w-well, so no, n-not at all. It's just that it's n-not common to find others that feel that w-way, is all." One shoulder hunched.

Gaara wasn't sure he believed her or not. He continued to regard her with a narrowed expression. "Then it's as you said. I prefer the quiet, and the distance ensures it for me. Besides, I dislike being interrupted."

_Interrupted? While doing what?_ Hinata wanted to ask, but decided to let that slide. There was no telling where that would lead. She had the feeling Gaara was the type that if given an inch, he'd take a mile, and the last thing she wanted to do was to open up any avenues she had no intention of venturing upon with him. But what she couldn't let slide, though, was something he'd said about bandits. Were there still such occurrences? If so, were they in any danger?

"Umm," she began, "y-you mentioned b-bandits…?"

Gaara nodded. "They've since been brought to justice some years ago, so you needn't worry about anything like that now." His head slightly inclined to one side as he regarded her. "You're not afraid to be here with me, are you, out here at this location?"

Hinata remained quiet. There was something imploring about his voice when he asked that – almost wistful - but she didn't take him seriously in light of what transpired yesterday.

Gaara sighed irritably. "Take some time to unpack and get settled. When you're ready, meet me back out front so I can show you around." He stated curtly, and turned on his heel and was off, pulling the door closed behind him.

One of Hinata's brows arched. What was that about? She wondered when Gaara's mood suddenly soured, but then shrugged it away. She wasted no time unpacking and storing her suitcase inside the walk-in closet. A brief inspection of the bathroom revealed a small linen closet in which an assortment of clean towels had been stored. She quickly pulled her hair up into a heavy bun when she decided to take advantage of the shower. And it felt heavenly when the warm droplets sprayed against her skin in a fine mist.

_You're not afraid to be here with me, are you, out here at this location?_

Gaara sighed heavily as he stood and gazed out the window of his study. Where the hell had _that_ come from? It had surprised him when he had asked the words before he was even aware he had. Ice cubes clinked in his glass when he turned it up to gulp the drink he had made for himself. Besides, it wasn't as if he didn't know the answer. Of course she was afraid to be out here with him. All his housekeepers had been. And even if they hadn't been driven away by his sexual antics, they would have eventually left anyway. Neither one had been able to handle a secluded lifestyle.

But Hinata was different. She hadn't seemed to mind. She even said herself that she preferred the quiet, didn't she? She had been none the wiser when Gaara's eyes had occasionally slid over to her during the drive to his home, and he had witnessed how animated she had become when she beheld the desert landscape from the car window. He knew she had seen it, had witnessed firsthand the unique beauty of the desert. It wasn't everyone who could appreciate its harsh beauty. His past housekeepers definitely never had, but Hinata definitely did.

_Hmm_, he thought, _was it possible? I mean, she is here for a short amount of time, but still. Perhaps, if we could… _

And it was as if he'd been doused with ice cold water, when Gaara instantly snatched himself up by his mental boot straps. What the hell was wrong with him today? He shook his head as if would help to right his thoughts, and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.

So what she had managed to impress him with her intelligence and the fact that she preferred solitude just as he had? And who was to say that she was even being truthful about herself? Had he forgotten so quickly the lessons he'd learned about the games people often played? He inclined his head over his shoulder and in the general direction of the guest room she was staying in.

_Damn, _he thought,_ I must be hornier than I thought, and the frustration is getting to me, fucking with my brain and making me entertain some crazy shit!_

He returned his gaze back out the window. He thought her an enigma on the plane earlier, and wondered if that was it, if that explained the sway she held over him. He decided it had to be, that he had simply been intrigued by the fact that he simply had never met anyone like her. Well, there was one way to remedy that, and that was to fuck her already and be done with it. Because the sooner he bedded her, the sooner that mysterious air that surrounded her and made her so damned appealing would dissipate, and he could get the hell on with his life.

But how he would go about seducing someone like Hinata? He had wondered about that before and, as far as he knew, it was his only dilemma. She was hard to read. It hadn't taken much effort on his part to get his past housekeepers in his bed, so what more Hinata, who had seemed oblivious to him? Gaara mulled, and was suddenly seized by an idea.

It was customary for him that, upon his return home during the winter in Konoha, he invited a few friends over for a sort of a welcome home get together, where they _got together_ in the literal sense of the word. And it would be no different this time, as well.

He sighed. It was high time Hinata was properly introduced to her new employer, and he couldn't think of a better way to accomplish that.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Later on that day, Gaara guided Hinata on yet another thorough tour of his desert home before stating that they would dine on the meals that had already been prepared and frozen beforehand. And in answer to her quizzical brow, Gaara explained that the meals had been prepared by Temari during the brief hiatus between housekeepers. And, upon inspection of the freezer's contents, Hinata had found frozen portions of spinach lasagna, lamb stew, and a chicken noodle casserole in freezer bags that had labeled on the front with the name of the dish as well as the date it had been packaged in bold, permanent black marker.

Gaara suggested they dine on a couple of the frozen meals for dinner. He stated he had no preference and allowed Hinata to choose the meals. So she chose two of the bags of frozen lasagnas. Store bought packages of frozen vegetables were stacked in a corner of the freezer, and she selected a bag of frozen broccoli that she prepared and served along with the lasagna. Gaara had selected a bottle of wine from a wine cooler fridge with a clear, glass door that was built into a wall in the kitchen.

Hinata set Gaara's place at the table in the dining room before she returned to the kitchen to prepare her own plate. And when she had made to dine at the island in the kitchen, she was surprised when Gaara had entered and ordered her to bring her plate into the dining room with him. He stated that it was his preference that she continued to dine with him throughout her stay in his home, and he would have it no other way.

Hinata was confused by the demand, but nevertheless obeyed. Whether it was due to the fact that he was her boss, or the disconcerting feeling she got whenever his penetrating gaze rested upon her, she felt awkward to dine with Gaara sitting across the table from her. But she credited her unease to the fact that this was her first live-in position, and that things operated a little differently. There were probably a host of things that she would have to get used to as a live-in housekeeper, but she would take it all in stride and chock it up to a learning experience.

The next morning, Hinata awoke early so as to get starting cooking breakfast. Because the grocery shopping still needed to be done, and she lacked an array of ingredients, she had to get creative. She had once tried her hand at being a vegan, but quickly given it up as it damn near proved the death of her. But it hadn't been a total loss as she had gained a few interesting recipes. She decided on a simple bannock recipe that she remembered and that proved key for situations for such as this one as it only called for the dry ingredients of flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. All of them were on hand. The only wet ingredient required was water, and it went without saying that it was also available. Having searched the cabinets, she discovered a box of unopened raisins and added a handful for flavor. Black coffee would accompany the simple meal.

After she and Gaara were seated and eating, he began speaking, but her mind had been elsewhere and she only managed to catch his mention of Temari.

She swallowed the bit of food in her mouth. "I'm s-sorry?"

"I said that Temari contacted me earlier to check on you. She said she was still settling in and mentioned something about a shopping trip. She wants to know when you would be up for it."

Hinata shrugged. "The sooner the better," she stated, "seeing as how I need to get the grocery shopping done." Her brows furrowed. "How often do you normally go into the city to shop?"

Gaara's eyes narrowed as if in thought. He really had no answer for her. It had been his intention to leave that up to the discretion of the housekeepers, but as they had never stuck around long enough to handle that particular aspect, it was always Temari who came round to make sure that the fridge and pantries had been stocked. He shrugged.

"I suppose I never took notice. I leave that to you to fulfill as often as you see fit. However, Temari said she would call again, so you two can make arrangements then."

Hinata nodded. Though the modus operandi of the shopping hadn't changed despite being in a different country, it was only certain factors that did. Back in Konoha, Gaara would leave cash in a kitchen drawer for her to purchase supplies. But now that they were in Suna, Gaara had presented her with a debit card that she was expected to use for the same purposes.

Hinata had been hesitant to accept the card when Gaara handed it to her last night. She had never been entrusted with such a high level of responsibility where her job was concerned, and she was worried that Gaara freely handed the same card out to all his housekeepers without knowing if they could be trusted or not. Of course she could be trusted, but how was Gaara to know that? How had he known he could trust any of past housekeepers? It was as if Gaara had read her distress when he explained that the card was fixed with a protective feature that only allowed a certain amount to be added to the account every month, but that the amount never exceeded a set limit.

This appeased Hinata, and when breakfast was concluded she began to clear the table. Gaara's next words halted her in her tracks.

"I'm receiving guests in a couple days, so please prepare the guest room," he stated in his monotone.

Hinata paused midway to the kitchen and turned to face him while still balancing the breakfast dishes in her hands. She watched as Gaara rose from the table. Her mind worked. Gaara had mentioned the arrival of guests, emphasis on the plural. She wondered where everyone was meant to sleep. Upon the tour of his home, she was made aware of only one other bedroom besides the ones she and Gaara utilized. Were the guests meant to share the bed? If so, then perhaps the guests were in fact a couple. She nodded at the quick conclusion she came to. It had made sense.

Gaara had watched as confusion marred Hinata's features before her brows smoothed again, and she started nodding. Knowing her, she probably thought it was a couple due to arrive. His mouth twitched with amusement at her rationalization. It was rather… innocent.

Gaara retreated to his study with a reminder to Hinata that he was to remain undisturbed except for when she reminded him of meals.

After she washed the dishes, Hinata went and retrieved an apron and cleaning caddy from the supply closet that was still stocked with a few cleaning essentials. She would have to remember to stock up on more when she went shopping. As she would normally prefer to start downstairs, she counted her luck that the guest bedroom was also downstairs, and she decided to focus on that room as a starting point.

The guest room was a shadowed corner room with a large window on both of the outside facing walls. The walls were intimately painted a rich and vibrant earth tone that reminded Hinata of the desert, and were mounted with black candle holders that currently held unlit candles. The floor was hard wood. And at the center of the room was a large, king-sized, black four-poster bed that was canopied with a sheer material that matched the sheer curtains that covered the windows. Other matching pieces of black furniture were lined along the walls.

The effect was bold and darkly romantic, and Hinata blushed when even she couldn't help but visualize the kinds of intimate acts the décor brought to mind. She gave a slight shake of her head as she turned to exit the room and glanced at a door just ahead on her right that she knew was locked.

She had inquired about the room during Gaara's tour when he had shown her the guest room, and he had turned to guide her back to the front of the house as if he had overlooked it altogether.

"And w-where does this door lead?" Hinata had asked as she gestured towards the heavy black door when Gaara had failed to point it out. He regarded her with narrowed eyes as if weighing whether or not he should tell her. He was silent a moment before he spoke.

"You needn't bother yourself with that room…" he stated, "…for now."

"Oh, o-okay," Hinata had relented as she turned to follow Gaara. She inclined her head over her shoulder toward the door one last time, her interest suddenly piqued.

She had been curious about the mystery room all night last night. She waited until it was later when Gaara was sure to be asleep. She rose and silently crept back to that door, and the marble flooring was cool beneath her bare feet. She wrapped her hand around the knob and carefully tried it again. She even leaned her weight into it. It didn't budge. Disappointed, she sighed and lifted a hand to rest on her hip.

She wasn't sure why she was so curious about that room, or even why Gaara had been so secretive about it. But did it really matter? After all, it was his home and he had the right to keep some part of it private and to himself. Hinata rolled her eyes at her own indiscretion. It wasn't like her to be so nosy, and snooping around her employer's house at night while he was sound asleep was rude and tactless. So, what had been her problem? And with that, she snuck back to her room, unaware of a pair of jade eyes that watched her intently from their vantage point around a corner.

Standing before the door now, Hinata's curiosity was still heightened, but she eased her nosiness by remembering her own self-constructed edict of never breaching the boundaries that defined the employer employee relationship. And satisfied, she turned and got back to work.

Temari eventually called back the next morning, and the two of them set up a time for the following day when she would come and collect Hinata and take her into the city to go shopping. Hinata had been on the lookout for Temari. She expected Temari would be driven by her chauffeur, but was surprised when she exited to see Temari steer a white SUV into the circular driveway.

Hinata had that same feeling of stepping into an oven when the heat enveloped her. As she quickly strode toward the vehicle, her brows lifted in amusement at the rock music that she heard despite the windows being up. She smiled when she entered and Temari courteously lowered the volume to a more respectable decibel before turning to fix her with a wide grin. Her eyes were concealed behind a pair of large sunglasses.

"Got everything?" Temari asked.

Hinata nodded. She had made sure to bring the list she had made as well as the debit card Gaara had given her to use. She had also brought a bit of her own money in case she saw something she wanted to purchase for herself. She secured her seatbelt and settled comfortably in the leather seat.

"Then, let's go shopping!" Temari exclaimed as she pulled out of the driveway.

Even with the air condition on full blast, the heat could still be felt as Temari drove. And it wasn't lost on Temari as she shook her head. "I swear I will never understand why Gaara chose to live out here in the middle of BFS!"

Hinata's brows knit. "BFS?" She asked.

"Bum-fucked Suna," Temari responded with a grin. "Kankuro and I asked him about it before, but he never gave a straight answer as to why he chose this location."

Hinata shrugged. "He says he likes the quiet," she relayed as her eyes focused once again on the desert landscape, at the gentle slope of the sandy dunes in the distance. "It really is pretty out here," she stated.

Temari's brows arched upward behind her sunglasses. She shifted gears again and increased her speed. "So how was your first night in Suna? Do you already regret that you came?" What she was really inquiring about was Hinata's first night in Gaara's home. But she phrased her question in such a way so as not to give Hinata any cause for alarm.

Hinata shook her head. "No, n-not at all," she responded honestly. Because despite what had happened with Gaara in Konoha, she was happy she hadn't allowed her fear to deter her away from this opportunity to travel. She smiled. "B-but then again, I only arrived y-yesterday and haven't been anywhere yet to know how I feel about S-Suna."

"Hmm," Temari nodded. "Well, I guess you'll be looking to stock up on food. I hope the frozen food portions I left were of use?"

"Y-yes, I am, and they were. Thank you very much."

Soon, the city came into view in the distance, and it wasn't long before she was surrounded by all the familiar sights and sounds associated with the city: the tall, looming buildings, the traffic lights, the sounds of vehicles as they sped to and fro, and people. There were people everywhere, and the sidewalks played host to their traffic as they circulated about.

Temari suggested they have a bite to eat before they started shopping, and they settled on a small mom and pop restaurant that Temari swore served the best gyros in Suna, hands down. They were seated next to the window as they ate and engaged in small talk mostly about the weather. And that had served to remind Temari that Hinata had needed to shop for clothing, and she next drove Hinata to a local mall. Inside, Hinata followed Temari as she located a clothing store within. Hinata was pleased to find that the clothing was modestly priced, and with Temari's help, she selected and purchased a few lightweight pieces that were more suitable for the hot and arid climate. Afterward, they finally ventured on to food shopping, and it was then Hinata had pulled her list from her purse. She sighed as she reviewed it. Since she had failed to ask Gaara how much money was loaded onto the card, she had hoped it was sufficient, because the list was rather extensive. His home had been out of practically everything, which had made sense as he had been away for some months.

Hinata remembered what Temari and Kankuro had explained to her back on the plane, that because of the intense climate, many of the fruits, vegetables, and various types of meats sold in Suna were all exported. And over half the stores she had seen thus far had been indoor, air conditioned units, and this was especially the case with grocery stores. There had been no open farmers' markets such as the ones she frequented back in Konoha. And there had also been no vending carts. Life in Suna varied from the one in Konoha, and it was definitely going to take some getting used to.

After the grocery shopping was completed, both the backseat and the load space of Temari's vehicle were packed with all of their purchases that were mostly Hinata's. Because she lived in the city, Temari hadn't required as much and purchased only a few items.

As Temari embarked on the drive back to Gaara's place, she dipped her back to indicate their purchases. "You were able to find much of what you needed?"

"Hmm," Hinata nodded. "I was, and I thank you so much for taking me." She thought of her grocery list. "I'm sure I got everything, so I should have no problems with Gaara's guests."

Temari shot her a side glance. "Gaara's having guests." It was more a statement than a question.

Hinata nodded. "He mentioned yesterday that he was expecting guests in a couple days," she mentally calculated, "which means they should arrive tomorrow." She glanced at Temari in time to notice her grip tighten on the steering wheel, and she was she worried she had said something wrong.

Temari's mouth pressed into a tight line. She had slipped her sunglasses back on, so the worry in her eyes couldn't be detected. That Gaara was having friends over meant one thing. It was characteristic of him to host a small and intimate party with a certain group of his friends whenever he returned to Sunagakure. It had been ongoing for many years, so she and Kankuro were aware of it. And though they didn't know the exact nature of the gathering, it hadn't taken too much of a stretch of the imagination to figure it out.

_Damn it, Gaara, don't fuck this up again!_ Temari thought. She was silent before she spoke.

"You know, Hinata, I want to thank you."

Hinata's head whipped around to Temari's profile with surprise. "Whatever f-for?"

Temari shrugged. "You weren't aware, but Kankuro and I both heard what you said to Gaara back there. You know, back at the airport in Konoha." She saw Hinata avert her gaze in her peripheral vision and figured it was probably something she hadn't wanted to discuss. "No, it's cool. I like what you said, how you stood up to him. Anyway, I just want to thank you for taking the job despite that article." She risked a quick glance at Hinata, and noted her blush.

"O-oh…" Hinata's voice trailed away. She was at a loss for words.

Temari sighed and continued. "My brother really isn't a bad person, Hinata. Things are just a little…" she paused as if searching for the right words "…_complicated_ for him right now. He's had a rough past. So regardless of whatever happens, please know that his heart really is in the right place." She shook her head once. "I just wanted you to know that."

Hinata listened quietly as she absently toyed with her purse strap in her lap by twisting it round and round her finger, untwisting it, and then twisting it again. It was the most she had learned of Gaara thus far, and she was unsure of how to process it. And what of this rough past Temari mentioned? Would that explain Gaara's behavior? If so, then she supposed people truly did behave differently in the face of life's adversities. Because while her own past hadn't been a bed of roses, either, she would never have subjected anyone else to such debasement the way Gaara had her. She then thought of the handcuffs she had remembered seeing a few times back at his penthouse in Konoha. Even though she had never seen a woman in the penthouse - or any signs of a woman, for that matter - there was no denying that there had been someone in those cuffs, bound in his bed. She shifted in her seat.

Perhaps such bizarre sexual behavior was his vice, a way for him to channel and vent his frustration? If so, then she was in no position to judge, because she had her own vice as well in the form of alcohol abuse. But that still hadn't explained why he acted out on _her_. And had he needed a reason? Had there been one when he acted out on his former housekeeper before her, and who ran to the paper? Suddenly, so many thoughts washed over Hinata.

She reflected on what Gaara had explained about the frozen foods being prepared by Temari during the periods when there hadn't been a housekeeper available to prepare them. And of course there was still Hanabi's statement about him having a high turnover rate.

Could there be that were some truth to that article after all? Hinata suddenly had the sinking feeling that his former housekeeper hadn't been the first to fall victim to Gaara's antics, and that she had been the latest. Her stomach churned, and she thought she was going to be sick.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hinata witnessed her first desert sunrise next morning. Having rose and readied earlier, she turned the chair that sat next to the window so that it faced outside, and she sat with her feet tucked beneath her as she watched the sun's slow ascent. And as she trailed the limitless stretch of sand with her eyes well into the distance, she thought about what Temari had said.

_So regardless of whatever happens, please know that his heart really is in the right place._

Hinata slowly shook her head. It was the 'whatever happens' part that had her worried, as that kind of sentiment never boded well. But she wondered what, if anything, there had been to be worried about. That Gaara was entertaining guests wasn't anything uncommon as hosts were wont to invite the occasional guest now and then. But she had been alarmed when he told her a couple days ago to expect their arrival. She hadn't pegged him the social type. She wondered about who would be arriving today.

Her head dipped back as she generously swallowed a mouthful from the bottle of vodka. She had made sure Temari hadn't noticed it when she secretly purchased it for herself yesterday at the grocers. She wiped her hand across her mouth. And it was almost orgasmic, that familiar, tingling sensation when the liquid burned down her throat and warmth spread throughout her body. She softly coughed into a curled fist that she lifted to her mouth. She waited a few more minutes before she stood. She secured the cap back on the bottle and reached to set it on the dresser. She sighed deeply. One thing was for certain. Regardless of what the day held in store for her, or of who was coming to pay Gaara a visit, she still had work to do, so she turned and exited the room.

She headed straight to the kitchen and prepared Gaara's breakfast. After cleaning the dishes, she tidied the kitchen and then set about ensuring the finishing touches of the guest room. She double checked that the adjoining bathroom was properly stocked with clean, fresh linens. And because she had cleaned and disinfected all the hard surfaces with a solution that contained bleach that still lingered in the air, she added an air freshener to tone down the scent of the strong chemical. She had already stripped the bed of its sheets before laundering and replacing them yesterday and dusted the furniture so that it practically shined. She had applied a fresh coat of wax onto the hardwood floors that had already dried, and she could see her reflection there, too. All that was left to do was prepare refreshments for her boss's guests that were due to arrive within the next couple hours, and per Gaara's instructions, she made a freshly chilled fruit salad that she would serve with wine.

Gaara was still in his office when the doorbell finally rang to signal the guests' arrival. Hinata paused to check her reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall over a matching accent table in the foyer before she gently eased the door open wide with a gracious bow of her head. Upon lifting her head, she was the image of composure despite being shocked by their appearance.

Gaara's guests hadn't been a couple after all, as Hinata had assumed, but instead a trio that consisted of a two men and one woman. Or at least who appeared to Hinata to be a woman, as detected by a pair of golden-hued eyes that blankly regarded her and that had been the only visible part of her body, for she was cloaked in a wide, white garment that loosely draped over her head and extended to her feet. A small, rectangular opening in the material over the eyes granted the woman visibility. It reminded Hinata of the type of clothing worn by Muslim women in the Middle East, but she had a feeling that neither this woman nor her companions were affiliated with the faith. The woman's arms extended through wide, batwing sleeves and her wrists were encircled in gold bangles. Heeled sandals adorned her feet, and gold anklets adorned her slender ankles.

Exactly which of her two male companions the woman belonged to, Hinata couldn't discern. They both stood on either side of the veiled woman with a hand pressed lightly, possessively, against her back as they stood on the threshold.

The first man Hinata beheld was about the same height as Gaara with spiky blonde hair. He had a series of piercings that lined the bridge of his nose, and the gesture was subconsciously done when she lifted her hand to her own nose. The second man, also of the same height, had brick red hair similar to Gaara's that was parted over one eye. He had an unsettling gaze that made Hinata shrink behind the door as she pulled it inward to allow them entry.

Gaara stepped forth to greet the party and ushered the veiled woman into the living room where she sat silently. He then assisted the two men with their luggage.

Hinata retreated to the kitchen where she spooned the fruit salad and poured wine into a total of four, pre-chilled, glass dessert bowls and wine glasses. She carefully set the dishes upon a serving tray she used to transport them to the dining room. After making sure the place settings had been properly arranged, she retrieved the serving tray and proceeded to the living room where she announced that their refreshments had been served.

Hinata dutifully stood post aside as everyone took their seats around the table and began to help themselves to the refreshments, but her brows knit when the veiled woman sat motionless at the table, her food untouched. She was unsure if she should intervene, but had been spared the dilemma when Gaara spoke.

"Hinata, please join us," was his simple command, and Hinata's gaze snapped to him.

"I'm s-sorry…?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly, for sure she had misheard. Although she knew it was to Gaara's preference that they dine together, it was to her understanding that had only applied when they were the only occupants of the house. She hadn't known his demand was to include when he entertained guests as well.

Gaara's eyes narrowed when Hinata had yet to comply, and for fear of being viewed as noncompliant before the now watchful eyes of his guests, she slowly approached the table with a bowed head. She placed the serving tray she held on the table and pulled a chair back as she sat next to the mysterious woman.

She was shocked when Gaara himself rose and came round to the side of the table at which she was seated. When he lifted the bowl of fruit salad and glass of wine that sat before the veiled woman and placed them in front of her instead, Hinata half rose in protest but was held fast in her seat by Gaara's restraining hand on her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his hand through the material of her dress as he moved his hand there around in light, caressing circles. She started when he bent low to her, his breath warm against her ear. "Come now, we don't want to be rude to my guests now, do we?" His other hand he lifted to lingeringly stroke the length of her ponytail before he stood to resume his seat. His next words were directed towards his friends. "You'll have to excuse Hinata. She's _new_."

This statement seemed to amuse the blonde-haired man, whose lips silently curled into a smile, but his red-haired companion only continued to stare at her with that same penetrating gaze as before. Hinata quickly averted her gaze and rooted her eyes on the fruit salad before her.

Hinata wasn't sure what to make of the unusual situation as it continued to unfold. After Gaara returned to his seat, the three men began to lapse into casual conversation and it was through this discourse that Hinata learned the two men's names. The blond that looked as if he had a penchant for masochism was named Yahiko, and the reserved red-head with the emaciated countenance was Nagato. She had yet to learn the name of the woman next to her as they still failed to address her. Hinata occasionally cast sideways glances at the woman next to her who continued to remain silent, as if it the treatment she was enduring hadn't been out of the ordinary.

After the refreshments were finished, Hinata was grateful for the distraction her work provided as she quickly began to clear the dishes. Gaara instructed her to follow with another bottle of wine. After Hinata carefully set the serving tray of dishes on the counter, she heeded Gaara's order and soon entered with yet another bottle and another set of glasses upon her serving tray.

Gaara waited until she poured the glasses of wine and he and his male guests selected one before he lifted his to propose a toast. And it was then that the veiled woman made a series of clicking noises with her hands that rested unseen on the sofa next to her, beneath the folds of her sleeves.

"It seems Konan would like to join us," Gaara stated, and his eyes rose to meet Hinata's. "A glass of wine for Konan, please."

Because the veiled woman hadn't eaten any of the refreshments prior, Hinata had automatically assumed she wouldn't be drinking any wine this time around, either, and had therefore refrained from pouring a glass for her. But she quickly acknowledged Gaara's command with a nod and poured a glass of the chilled wine for the woman now. She placed it before her, all the while fixing her with a curious gaze when she wondered how it was the woman was going to consume it despite the clothing she wore. And in answer to her question, it was Nagato who rose and stood before the woman who Hinata finally came to know by her name.

Hinata watched as Nagato proceeded to assist in gently removing Konan's covering, and it was as if he removed the wrapping from a precious gift the way his hands cautiously worked. After he finally removed the material and folded and set it on the coffee table, there was no stifling Hinata's gasp despite the hand that flew to her mouth when she found the woman had been bound and gagged beneath her veil.

A black, low cut, mid-thigh length dress of PVC material clung so tightly to the woman's slender form that it resembled a second skin. A red, rubber ball gag had been placed behind her teeth and held in place by single, black leather strap that attached to either side of the ball and wound around the back of her head. A red, high-necked posture collar was wound around the slender column of her neck. A silver chain affixed to a loop in the front of the collar extended down to her lap and was connected to a similar silver chain that stretched between and connected a pair of red leather cuffs that encircled her arms just below her elbows.

Unable to rend her eyes away from what she now shockingly witnessed, Hinata continued to stare, transfixed, while Nagato gently began to undo the strap of the gag.

"Open," Nagato gently command, and Konan was forced to stretch her mouth wider still as he slid the gag out. He then lovingly ran one hand through her hair that had been dyed an electrifying, cobalt blue before bending at the waist to kiss her passionately upon her lips. He then righted himself and placed the ball gag atop the folded burka-like garment on the table. And all of it was in plain view of a speechless Hinata.

It was Yahiko's turn next as he came to stand before Konan just as Nagato had. And like Nagato, he also bent at the waist and kissed Konan with equal intensity. A deep moan rumbled from deep within his chest.

And if that hadn't been shocking enough, Hinata slowly blinked once when she detected movement in the corner of her eye, and redirected her gaze to watch as Gaara himself rose and assumed the same position, only he straddled Konan's demurely pressed legs. Bending, he slipped a hand around the back of her head and proceeded to lightly massage there as he bent low.

"Welcome back, Konan," was his greeting before he lowered his mouth to hers. And it was Konan this time who moaned with pleasure, her head dipping further back against the sofa beneath the pressure of Gaara's lips descended upon hers.

Hinata's head jerked away from the shameless scene that unfolded in front of her. A feeling of unease washed over her. It wasn't until the kiss ended that she turned her head about and blinkingly regarded everyone in the room. "Umm, e-excuse m-me," she stammered, and quickly rose and darted from the living room.

"Hinata," Gaara had called after her, but to no avail as she headed for the retreat of her bedroom.

Once inside, Hinata closed the door and rested her back against it. She gulped a deep breath of air and lifted a hand to her chest. She could feel the rapid staccato of her heartbeat within. What the hell had she just witnessed? What manner of friends of Gaara's _were_ these people? Had they _all_ gone mad? Had they…

Gasping, she jumped from the door and turned to face it when a serious of harsh knocks sounded on the other side.

Gaara.

She mentally chided her stupidity for not remembering to lock the door when he tried the knob. Finding it open, he entered and angrily slammed it behind him. Hinata retreated a few steps as Gaara strode toward her in two long strides. His face was a mask of fury as he loomed over her.

"Would you mind explaining to me what would make you disrespect my guests like that?" He asked in a menacingly calm voice.

"Are you s-seriously asking m-me that, after what I j-just _s-saw_?" Her voice trembled.

Dark amusement flickered in Gaara's eyes as he crossed his arms. "And tell me, Hinata, exactly what it was you saw?"

"I saw a w-woman who was _g-gagged_ and _b-bound_, is what I saw, who was h-humiliated..." Hinata's voice trailed off, frowningly shaking her head. "She may as w-well have been a muzzled d-dog."

Gaara's eyes narrowed. "I think you would do well to mind your tongue," he stated slowly in that same menacing calm.

"And w-why should I, unless y-you're afraid of how it must make _y-you_ look?"

The flesh over one brow arched. "And how exactly is this about me?"

"Birds of a f-feather," she responded, because surely one's character was defined by company he kept. And from what she just saw, the fact that he surrounded himself with such people spoke volumes! She shook her head. "I suppose this all stems from your past?"

Hinata cried out when Gaara instantly clamped her arm in a painful grip. "And just what the hell would you know about my past? Or rather," he concluded, "what has my sister been feeding that pretty little head of yours that you think you've learned about me?"

"Very l-little, actually."

"Unless accuracy is important to you, you'd do best to get your information straight from the horse's mouth."

"And would y-you tell m-me if I asked?" When Gaara was silent, she scoffed.

"Why the hell would you care?"

And why did she care? Hinata wondered. It wasn't like they were integral parts of one another's lives. They had no relationship beyond that of employer and employee. He was just her boss, the name on her paycheck, and she was sure he saw her as no more than an easily expendable subordinate. So again, why did she care? Her lids drooped. Perhaps it had been because she thought she had found a kindred spirit in him.

She had thought about it all last night as she lied on her side, staring out the window at the star-studded sky. And it hadn't been so farfetched an idea, really, that the two of them had been alike in some ways. They both had troubled pasts that had left them damaged, probably forever altered. And as a result, they had been forced to resort to unsavory habits as a means to cope with their pain.

She twisted her arm in his grip. "Let g-go of me."

Gaara noted the change in her voice. It sounded subdued. Had the fight gone out of her so soon? "Gladly," he stated, "so long as you get back out there and do your damned job. Because it is why you came to Suna in the first place, right, to do your job?"

"Go to hell." Her voice was just barely above a whisper.

And there it was, Gaara thought when she lifted her eyes to his, and he caught a glimpse of the haunted dullness there. He had made its near tragic acquaintance that night beneath the light of the lamp post. He had remembered it, and he had missed it. It was that look that tugged at something deep within him, that dredged up those feelings of yearning that made him want to connect with someone. All of them feelings he had managed to keep at bay, but that were now bubbling to the surface against his will now. And it was all her fault.

"Damn you," Gaara swore softly as he brought his lips crashing down upon Hinata's lips in a longing kiss. The sensation of her lips beneath his was more than he had bargained for, and his shoulders hunched in response to the feeling of something electric that zipped through him. He lifted his hands and buried them in the thickness of her hair. When he heard Hinata moan, he deepened the kiss, exploring the lingering taste of the vodka within her mouth with his tongue.

Hinata's mind had gone blank, and all that existed in her world now was the sensation Gaara was creating within her. It was all she could do to dip her head back when Gaara delved his tongue deeper. She marveled at the feel of the foreign organ as it dueled with her own tongue. He momentarily slid his tongue against the inside of her cheek, stroking the flesh there that she was surprised to find was sensitive to the touch.

Her hands trembled where they hung at her sides, and she slowly lifted them to bury deep in his hair. The gesture evoked a moan from Gaara, and she almost gasped when he hungrily embraced her. His hands began to roam all over her, seeking her curves. His hands lifted to cup her breasts through the material of her dress, and Hinata gasped at the feel. She was shocked again to find they were sensitive as well, and they throbbed with a feeling of pleasure as he proceeded to massage them. When her nipples had grown erect, he clasped each one between his thumbs and forefingers and pinched. But it hadn't hurt Hinata. Rather, it had the opposite effect and another jolt of pleasure zipped through her.

Her mouth tore from his with a gasp. "Oooo," she cooed. She pressed even harder into his hands as if she couldn't get close enough.

Gaara's green eyes were narrowed slits of brightly shining gemstones as he gazed into Hinata's face. And his breath caught as he beheld what had seemed like a transformation. Her own eyes were closed now, and her brows were slightly knit as passion suffused her skin with a soft and lovely shade of pink that overrode her earlier blotchy complexion. Her lips were slightly pursed and her breathing was labored.

Hinata was…beautiful.

And turning him on something fierce. Gaara's hands trailed down to her derriere where he cupped his hands under the curve of her buttocks through her dress. He squeezed the tender flesh there. In his mind's eye, that day in Konoha began to replay with alarming clarity, and his passion was unleashed. Releasing his hold on Hinata, he swiftly turned her about and roughly pressed her against the dresser.

Hinata was none the wiser when she felt herself being turned about, but her arms were quick to react as they reached out to brace against the edge of the dresser lest she be slammed into it. She gasped when Gaara hastily wound her ponytail around his hand and pressed her head down, forcing her to bend at the waist. His other hand lifted her skirt. He pressed his groin against her from behind, and Hinata lifted her eyes to the mirror and caught his reflection. She watched as his lids slid closed. A nerve pulsated in his jaw.

_Not again_, Hinata thought and pressed her eyes closed when his hand began to massage her behind, and she winced. She had still been sore since the last time he assaulted her there. Her body jerked as Gaara tugged on her panties, roughly lowering them this time, but it was when she heard the soft sound of a zipper being undone that she froze.

Her earlier passion died an instant death and was replaced with a kindling fear when she lifted her widened eyes to his reflection in the dresser's mirror. She watched as he lifted his hand to his mouth and passed his tongue over his fingers in one fluid motion, coating them with his saliva, before he reached down between them to where she couldn't see. But she fearfully realized his intention when she could feel could feel movement there, and then the hand in her hair tightened and pulled her head backward. And then there was the feel of his sex as he made to press it between the folds of her behind.

"P-please s-stop, Mr. Sabaku," Hinata pleaded in a soft voice despite the constricted feel of her throat as he firmly held her head in place. "P-please s-stop," she begged, but her words fell on Gaara's deaf ears. A spasm of frustration instantly burst in Hinata's abdomen that caused her to squirm beneath Gaara's hold.

"Stop," Hinata commanded again, stronger this time. "I said s-stop!" Hinata yelled and, shifting forcefully this time, managed to wrest herself from Gaara's grip.

Gaara's eyes slid closed. It was his turn to reach a hand out to brace himself against the dresser this time. His breath was ragged as he struggled to collect himself. He then stood and righted his clothing. He was refastening his zipper when he finally turned toward Hinata, and was met with a stinging pain against his cheek that caused his head to violently jerk to the side.

"You sick b-bastard," Hinata spat. Her hand stung where she cracked Gaara across his face with an open palm. Her eyes were pooled with unshed tears as she watched him though their blurry sheen.

Gaara lifted a hand to his face. His eyes slowly redirecting toward Hinata, but not before detecting the bottle of alcohol that sat on the dresser. His chuckle was low and brief.

"Perhaps I am sick," he stated, "but then again I hardly think you are one to judge." He watched as Hinata's chin jutted forward defiantly.

"What's that s-supposed to m-mean?" She asked. She gasped when Gaara sauntered toward her. She thought he was going to try to touch her when he reached his hand out, and she defiantly stood her ground when he did reach out... to life the bottle off the dresser. Hinata slightly blushed when Gaara fixed her with a knowing smile. He then turned his gaze to the bottle, slowly turning it about in his hands. He lifted it up before her.

"A vice by any other name," he stated mockingly as his eyes rose to hers, "is still a vice." Their locked gazes lingered before he finally sighed and turned from her to replace the bottle to its earlier position on the dresser.

"I don't h-hurt others," she reasoned in her defense.

Gaara shook his head. "To speak of hurt is to speak of pain. They are both synonymous, and both completely subjective."

"To what?"

Gaara did reach out to touch her this time. He lifted a hand to cup her jaw. "To one's perception," he stated, "because what may be painful to one, may feel damned good to another." He watched as confusion marred her features. He slowly began to lower his lips to hers once more but was halted when she gently wrested himself free of his hand.

"I suppose you'll want the first flight out of here." His mouth twisted into a smirk.

"I t-told you I had a j-job to do." She shook her head.

Gaara's eyes widened ever so slightly before narrowing to their usual cat-like slant. It amused him that Hinata was still hanging on to that logic.

"If that is what you choose, so be it. But know this," he stated with a lowered voice as he stepped closer to her, narrowing the gap between them. He was suddenly serious. "You will do your damned job. Regardless of what you may see, regardless of what you may hear, you will do _exactly_ as you are told. Do I make myself clear?"

Hinata's chin was lifted as she regarded him unblinkingly, challengingly. "As you wish," she replied.

**A/N: I apologize for the delay! But I want to say a couple things about this chapter. **

**First, for those of you who may not be familiar with the type of relationship Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko share, it is termed polyandrous. A polyandrous relationship is one where a woman may engage in sexual relationship with more than one man. I plan to briefly delve into it later, but we'll see. Although I have already known about polyandrous relationships, I didn't get the idea to include one in this story until after I read the Fan Fiction story, **_**'Secret Admirers'**_** by author Embrace Diversity. If you haven't checked it out already, I highly encourage you to do so. It's a very good read that explores the polyandrous relationship between the characters Hinata, Sasuke, and Itachi. **

** Second, I mean absolutely NO offense and/or disrespect whatsoever to any Muslims that may lurk this site, so please don't any Muslims flood me with flaming or hateful messages! Well I suppose you can – I mean hey, do yo' thang - but don't expect me to answer or pay any heed to them as I'm entirely too pre-occupied to be bothered with any of that. I simply got the idea from a blog about a lady who, though she is not Muslim, dresses in burka-like garments that are actually made of latex or some other material that I can't recall. Anyways, she and her husband live a 24/7 dominatrix lifestyle. If you'd like to check out her blog, I highly encouraged you to do so as it makes for a very interesting read! Her blog is titled 'Diary of a Latex Lady', and you can Google it. **


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hinata was sure that had she fully grasped the meaning of Gaara's words, she would have reconsidered her decision to stay. She would have taken advantage of the out clause he presented when he offered her the next flight out of Suna, for the following morning was a foray into his twisted world.

When she awoke the next morning, it was to commence her day in her usual routine. She began with an early shower, mentally reviewing her duties for the day as she bathed. Afterward, she dressed in her uniform. She smoothed her hair into her usual ponytail and straightened her apron. And when she exited the bathroom, she reached for the half empty bottle on the dresser, unscrewed the cap, and downed the remainder in one gulp.

_A vice by any other name…_

Hinata returned the empty bottle and crossed to sit at the foot of the bed. Gaara had granted her the rest of the day off yesterday to allow her some time in which to collect herself, his words exactly. And it angered her that he considered her the one in error. But though she was nonetheless grateful for the brief reprieve away from the shocking antics of Gaara and his guests, she knew that hadn't been the last of it. There had been more to come.

_Regardless of what you may see, regardless of what you may hear, you will do exactly as you are told._

Before she had fallen asleep last night, Hinata had thought. No matter how she sliced it, the fact that she was here for the money remained at the core. And because she had a sinking feeling Gaara had no intention of making her job any easier for her, she knew she was going to have to come up with a plan if she was going to survive the remainder of her stay in Suna and she could think of only one way to do that.

Much of Hinata's young life back in the Hyuga mansion had been marked with a series of lessons in etiquette. It was a requirement that every Hyuuga be versed in how to properly conduct him or herself in a variety of social situations and Hinata, along with Hanabi, had been forced to endure the lessons beneath the tutelage of an instructor who had been hailed the best in Konoha. Weekly were the hour-long sessions in which they were taught not only the rules of proper table manners and the social graces of entertaining, but what it meant to wield grace and embody civility even in the face of the most objectionable of situations with politely detached decorum.

At the time, Hinata was sure such lessons would prove completely useless to her later on in her life. After her mother's death, she he had set her sights on leaving home and shrugging off the oppressive mantle that was her Hyuuga identity. But reflecting on it now, she could never have imagined that she would ever need to recall all those previous lessons, because they would serve as the means in which she would endure her current job as Gaara's housekeeper.

Hinata paused when she crossed to the door, and her hand hovered over the door knob. Her eyes briefly closed as she steeled herself against the fact that she was none the wiser as to what to expect when she exited this room, because she had to press forward. She had to remain focused on her goal which was to realize her own independence. There was no other way.

She practically heaved a sigh of relief to find that neither Gaara nor his guests had been about, and she entered the kitchen to begin breakfast. As she sliced a few vegetables for a breakfast soup she had decided upon, she thought of the kiss she and Gaara had shared. She remembered the feel of his lips upon hers, his hands on her body, and she blushed. It was a series of firsts for her. She'd never been kissed, never been touched in such an intimate manner, and even the desire that had instantly ignited and zipped through her with such force had been alien to her.

Hinata had never contemplated her personal life; or, more appropriately, her lack thereof. Sex had always remained wholly elusive to her. It was fantastical. It was one of those things that had just never happened to her, much like the way she never attended her prom, or never gone to college. That wasn't to say she had never been interested in anyone before. She had only loved one other person. But that was back in school, which had been so long ago that it was hardly worth remembering. And he had never reciprocated her feelings anyways. He had rejected her and instead dated and eventually married another childhood friend of theirs who had always remained his sole love interest.

And besides, with all that had happened - her mother's suicide, leaving home, and then there was her drinking – Hinata figured she had so many of her own issues to contend with anyways that it seemed the right thing to do to steer clear of any romantic liaisons. It would be selfish and unfair to invite anyone into her troubles. And as the opportunity for intimacy never presented itself again, it was if her body had conveniently gone dormant. That was, until yesterday.

Could that be why her body had responded to Gaara's lovemaking? Had her body craved intimate contact, starved for it, and had ultimately been denied it? Hinata huffed. Well, if what one would call what Gaara had done _lovemaking_, she thought. Other than the feeling of being able to relate to him, she was sure she had no other feelings towards him. Did she even find him handsome?

She supposed she had never considered it, but envisioning him now - tall and slender with broad shoulders, intense green eyes, red shock of hair, and darkly brooding demeanor – she decided that he was an attractive man. Well, unstable mannerisms aside, that is.

At the sound of someone approaching, Hinata turned as Gaara entered. She had long ago noted the dark circles around his eyes which she figured resulted from lack of sleep. But what were the chances that he'd laid awake last night, unable to fall asleep for thinking of the brief intimacy they'd shared, the way she had? And if the indifferent look on his face was any indication, she'd had her answer. Why had she felt hurt?

"Breakfast will b-be served shortly," she said. "Will everyone be dining this morning, s-sir?" She had to ask. She remembered the way Konan hadn't eaten the refreshments yesterday, unable to for the restraints that bound her.

It should have pleased Gaara that Hinata had asked after Konan, but it hadn't because he knew the effort she was making wasn't borne of her desire to become accustomed with anything to do with him. Rather, she was trying to prove some point by remaining in Suna, employed at his residence. But what was it?

"Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about. Are you familiar with how to prepare a liquid breakfast, preferably something nutritional?" Hinata nodded. "See to it that Konan has one. And make sure to feed it to her only after you have served my other guests and me first."

Hinata's eyes widened at that. "Y-you want me to _f-feed_ her?"

Gaara was already exiting the kitchen when Hinata's question caused him to pause in the doorway. He turned toward her, his eyes glittering challengingly. "Is that a problem?" And though he didn't say it, he didn't need to, because Hinata read it in his eyes. _You will do as you are told._

"N-no, sir," Hinata responded. She turned to resume her task.

And because his request was so simple, Hinata wasted no time finishing the breakfast soup she had started and served alongside slices of bread. Sliced fruit would accompany as a side dish. And for the liquid breakfast Gaara requested, Hinata prepared a simple smoothie by blending a couple fruits and a few leaves of raw baby spinach together with a bit of water. She waited until Gaara, Nagato, and Yahiko had been served before she set off for Konan.

Hinata realized she hadn't known where Konan was despite looking for her. And because the cobalt-haired woman hadn't been in the guest room, Hinata guessed there was only one other place she could be. Her heartbeat quickened when she came to stand before the door of that mysterious room that Gaara had been so secretive about. Because she had yet to personally see anyone come or go from that room during the time that she had been here in this house, she had assumed that the room hadn't been put to use after all. She drew a deep breath as she reached out with one hand to gently ease the door inward. She cautiously stepped just within the doorway where she paused to allow her eyes to accustom to the dimly lit interior within.

"Konan?" Hinata called out, and was met with silence. Two more steps into the room. She allowed the door to gently close behind her as her eyes continued to scan for Konan.

The room was larger than she expected. It was cooler, too, but comfortably so. The walls were all dark, whether painted black or some other color akin to it, she couldn't tell. She ventured even further into the room and reached out a hand to press against the wall. It was cool to the touch as well, and looked to be made of the same adobe brick material. Lifting her eyes, she turned her head about and noted the recessed lighting in the ceiling. A circular dial on the wall near her hand controlled the level of brightness, and a few strategically positioned suspension racks affixed into the wall were curious to her. But it wasn't until the sound of some small movement – like a shifting - commanded her attention and she turned in its direction. And gasped aloud at what she saw.

Konan sat bound to a single, hard-backed chair that had been strategically placed in the center of the room. Her arms had been wrapped around to the rear of the chair. There, her wrists were fastened by a pair of cuffs that had been worked through the vertical rungs along the back of it. Her legs had been bound as well, each one secured flush against the front legs of the chair with a series of black, leather straps with large, silver buckles. She wore the same red posture collar that Hinata had seen her in yesterday, and that held her head stiffly erect, and a pair of matching red heels. She wore nothing else.

In her shock, Hinata retreated a few steps and bumped into something along the back of her knees. She turned to find that it was a large bed – queen sized, perhaps – and the mattress that had been stripped bare. Along the wall behind it was the same style of headboard that she had seen back at the penthouse in Konoha, wrought iron and lined with vertical spindles. Fastened was a length of chains that rested on the mattress.

_Polite detachment, _Hinata silently chanted to herself. The hand that held the glass began to shake ever so lightly, and she closed her eyes as she struggled for control. _Polite detachment… _

Assured she had regained her composure, Hinata calmly approached Konan. It wasn't until she lifted the glass to Konan's lips that she realized Konan was unable to drink it for the gag in her mouth. And Hinata would have to undo it. Hinata stifled a sigh of frustration as she turned to set the drink down on small, nearby table. She came to stand behind Konan, grateful at least for the dial of light above her that aided her to see what she was doing. Her hands nervously shook as she gently made to undo the strap holding the gag in place. But it was relatively simple to do after all, and she sighed when the gag released. Konan obediently opened her mouth as Hinata slid the gag out and placed it on the table next to the smoothie. She then retrieved the smoothie and crossed back in front of Konan, who was regarding her with an unreadable expression.

It dawned on Hinata that the liquid breakfast was meant to supplement the meal that she couldn't consume due to her restraints and ball gag. And though Konan hadn't been gagged now, she remained completely silent, never so much as uttering a thank you. Only her golden eyes twinkled mischievously as Hinata held the shake up to her mouth, and she sipped it through the straw that was provided. It was Konan's eyes that Hinata found disconcerting as they held her steady in their unreadable gaze, and it was all Hinata could do then to avoid meeting her eyes by studying the restraints.

Hinata's head lowered as she fought not to look at Konan's naked breasts, but it was hard not to do. And it was really was like the bad accident on the side of the road she knew she shouldn't stare but did anyway, when her eyes lowered to Konan's breasts, to the rosy pink nipples centered in areoles of the same color. Her curious eyes then drifted lower still, over Konan's pierced navel and then to the inverted triangular shape that was partially concealed by Konan's slightly parted thighs, and to her vulva that had been completely shaved bare. Hinata's eyes unconsciously darted back up to Konan's face, and she was surprised to find that a small and knowing smile had played the woman's lips. Hinata allowed her gaze to dip back to her hands. She was aware she blushed furiously despite controlling her features into a mask of indifference. _Polite detachment. _ She was grateful when Konan finished the smoothie, and she gently dabbed at the corners of Konan's mouth with a small cloth napkin before reapplying the gag as best she could despite her trembling hands. She then offered a small and polite "thank you" before she turned and exited the room.

It wasn't until after breakfast and she had tidied the kitchen that she began her routine cleaning. Konan remained bound in the chair in the dungeon room well into the afternoon, and if she had ever been uncomfortable or experienced any physical pain from being restricted in that chair for such a length of time, Hinata had never known.

Gaara had retreated to his study after breakfast along with Yahiko and Nagato where they remained for a while. When they emerged, Gaara instructed Hinata to bring a total of four drinks back into the room where Konan was, and that he called the "dungeon".

Once the drinks were passed around the men and they were comfortably settled, Hinata slightly bowed and made to leave when she was halted by Yahiko.

"Do join us, Hinata," he propositioned. He held up one of the glasses of wine in offering.

"N-no, thank you," she declined. "I'm afraid I still have more work to do."

"But I insist," was Yahiko's authoritative reply. "Besides, this is the desert after all. If you clean up the dust now," he shrugged, "there will just be more dust to clean up later."

Hinata's eyes darted over to Gaara, who silently watched from his standpoint behind Konan's chair. He lifted his drink to his lips with one hand while the other languidly raked the other through Konan's hair. Hinata knew the futility of declining and accepted the drink Yahiko held out to her with a slight nod. She lowered herself into a chair at a distance from him when he gestured with a lift of his arm for her to have a seat.

"Tell us then, Hinata, how are you finding Suna so far?" Yahiko asked. "I trust Gaara's been treating you well."

The wine had been chilled, and the feel of the cool glass was comforting to Hinata as she focused her eyes into it. She could feel Gaara's eyes upon her from where he stood, still stroking Konan's hair.

"What I've s-seen so far is v-very beautiful," she answered honestly.

"What you've seen so far?" Yahiko repeated. He then addressed Gaara. "You haven't shown her around town yet?"

Gaara gaze remained pinned on Hinata as he spoke. "Not part of the job description. Besides, I'm as close to town now as I prefer to be."

This produced a dry chuckle from Nagato, who had come to stand next to Gaara. Hinata watched as they switched, and Nagato had taken up Gaara's task of stroking Konan's hair. Gaara had come to stand behind Hinata, and even at a small distance, she could feel his nearness. It emanated off him like a warm current that made her feel anxious.

"Too bad, actually," Yahiko said. "There really are so many beautiful sights to see here." Rising, he placed his drink back onto the serving tray and came to stand at Konan's side. He bent to press a light kiss on Konan's cheek. "So beautiful…"

_Regardless of what you may see…_

Hinata watched as Yahiko now knelt and boldly proceeded to fondle one of Konan's breasts where she sat. Nagato in turn knelt and pressed his lips against her neck. He soon claimed Konan's other breast, cupping it one palm as he deftly teased the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. And it was only then when Hinata beheld the first sound of the day from the golden-eyed beauty when she groaned from her throat, a low and husky expression of the pleasure she felt.

_Regardless of what you may hear…_

Nagato bent his head lower still as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, and it was this caress that caused Konan's breathing to deepen, and it was all she could do to press her torso forward, but only ever so slightly, because even that movement was restricted, bound as she was against the chair. Then that same hand that cradled her breast ventured lower still, skimming the flat plane of her abdomen, until it came to rest on the crest between her legs. And one of Nagato's long and slender male fingers slowly, gently, work its way under her, _into_ her. Konan would make to facilitate the gesture with a small rise of her hips as she tucked her pelvis forward, allowing him entry. Her earlier groans of pleasure would dissolve into outright cries of pleasure as the hand began to work the finger in a gentle, in and out motion that was focused on that small bit of flesh in which all her desire was housed. Wave after wave of pleasure would wash over Konan as she rode the tides of the ecstasy that was visited upon her until she climaxed, but the reprieve was only short-lived as Yahiko and Nagato switched up and exacted their lovemaking on her again until Konan once again climaxed. And though her orgasm was longer in coming the second time, it had been more intense.

_You will do exactly as you are told._

And Hinata had been made to bear witness to it all. What had been more embarrassing was that Gaara had watched along with her. He continued to stand behind the chair in which she sat. And when she risked a glance upward, it was to find him regarding her with a strange expression. His eyes were glazed, his gaze dazed, his chest heaving with labored breathing. Hinata continued to stare, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

From his vantage point, Gaara noted Hinata's flushed complexion as she gazed up at him. And it was just like in her room yesterday when her lids had lowered again, narrowing her pale eyed gaze. He small lips were slightly parted, and Gaara noticed for the first time that they were slightly pink in color, all candied-sweetness looking. Her breasts heaved in the bodice of her uniform, that damn sack cloth of a monstrosity that he hated and wanted nothing more than to rent in shreds. And then there was the fullness of her thighs, he saw, as his eyes lowered to the way they were modestly pressed closed, outlined in that skirt.

"May I b-be excused?"

This time Gaara didn't stop her when Hinata rose, and he nodded once. He blinked slowly as he fought his way back to the present. He watched as Hinata retrieved the glasses, placed them back onto the tray, and left the room.

Hinata placed the tray onto the counter. She drew a shaky breath, rattled by the realization that she had participated into her first act of voyeurism. But she didn't have time to process how she felt about that when she turned in time to see Gaara bee lining for her. He stopped himself within an arm's reach of her, and both his arms shot out to grip the edge of the counter on either side of her. And Hinata could see that he was warring within himself, fighting some unseen struggle.

The sound of the desert wind as it whirred outside was all they could hear as they stood facing one another in the kitchen: Gaara's gaze intense as he stared into the heated paleness of Hinata's eyes.

There was that warm current that emanated from his nearness again, Hinata thought, and she slowly lifted a hand and pressed against the solid frame of his chest. Gaara groaned deeply within his chest, and Hinata could feel it beneath her hand. Her lids fluttered closed.

"Don't," was Gaara's command, harsh and strained. He shook his head as her gaze questioned, searched. "As a matter of fact, if you don't leave now, I won't go easy on you."

Hinata gasped. She quickly made her way out of the kitchen and back into the room. She made sure to lock it this time as she curled into a fetal position on the bed and silently began to cry.

**A/N: Sorry for the errors! **


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Several days later, Temari pulled herself into a sitting position in her bed. She was oblivious of the way the sheet had slid to her waist and bared her breasts. And she was angry.

"Did you hear me?" Hanabi demanded when Temari hadn't answered. "I said you never mentioned a damned thing about traveling to Suna."

Of course she heard her, Temari thought irritably. That had been the problem. She glared at the digital clock on her nightstand. Damn it! It was way too early in the morning for this shit, and she chided herself for not having checked her phone's caller I.D., else she wouldn't have even taken Hanabi's call.

Temari's eyes briefly softened when they slid to where Shikamaru lie sleeping next to her. He had taken his vacation on his job and come to Suna to spend the time with her. His plane had just arrived yesterday, and all she really wanted to do now was curl up next to him and get back to sleep. Her sigh was impatient.

"I'm sorry, what was that again?" She roughly raked a hand through her hair.

"When exactly had you planned on telling me you were taking my sister to Suna?"

"I really don't know what it is you want me to say. Hinata's a grown woman who makes her own decisions. She applied for the job, I explained the duties, and she accepted, pure and simple." She shrugged.

"I see. And exactly how has my big sister been faring with your brother?" She held one sleek black pump up for inspection. "Has he fucked her yet?"

Shocked at her lack of censure, Temari held the phone away at length and stared at it incredulously before she pressed it back against her ear. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Oh, please," Hanabi stated with a roll of her eyes. "Considering it's your brother she's working for, I'd say a very valid one. Everyone knows about your brother. He's all over the papers. He always is."

"She's doing fine, actually," Temari tersely stated between clenched teeth. She was aware she really hadn't known that to be fact despite saying it, but wanted to conclude the conversation with Hanabi as quickly as possible. Hanabi was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Well, just make sure that she doesn't come to any unnecessary harm, or else," Hanabi stated.

Temari pulled away from the headboard and sat bolt upright in the bed. Her eyes narrowed into the distance. "If I didn't know any better, Hanabi, I'd think you were threatening me."

On her end of the line, Hanabi's eyes trailed several pairs of shoes lined before her. At her request, the shop attendant had brought them out for her inspection. She shook her head with indecision, unable to make up her mind. The upscale shoe store was one that she often frequented, and where it was customary for her to blow a few grand in a single visit. The owner had grinned enthusiastically when she entered. He wrung his hands as he prematurely calculated the amount of money Hanabi was sure to spend this day.

"Hmm," Hanabi mused, tapping one manicured nail at the corner of her mouth. "No," she eventually said aloud with a shake of her head. She placed a hand over the mouthpiece of her cell phone. "Not you, damn it," she snapped when the clerk, mistakenly thinking she had addressed him, made to take the shoes away. "I'm sorry, but could I possibly get a little fucking _privacy_ here?" She watched as the clerk comically backed away in a series of bows. She then removed her hand and directed her attention back to her conversation. "No, Temari," she stated, "it's not a threat."

"And since when the hell did it become incumbent upon me to discuss my itinerary with you?" Temari questioned as she continued to peer angrily into the distance. "Need I remind you that you were the one who encouraged me to hire your sister in the first damned place?" She shrugged. "I don't think anything else that transpires beyond that point is any of your concern."

Not any of her concern? Hanabi huffed into the phone. "Hinata is the firstborn Hyuga heiress," she stated as if that would explain things, and though she couldn't see it, Temari rolled her eyes on the other end. "And if that crazy-assed brother of yours so much as harms a hair on her head, I will personally see to it that Daddy –"

"You know," Temari countered mockingly, cutting Hanabi off, "I'm surprised that you are just now calling me, seeing as how Hinata's been employed by my family for, what, _over_ a week now? So forgive me if I don't buy into your little act of concern."

Hanabi's lips slowly spread into a smile. "It's not in the spirit of concern that I am calling."

"Then why are you calling, Hanabi? Better yet," Temari thought as her mind worked quickly, "why the hell would you recommend your sister for the housekeeping position despite being aware of my brother's _reputation_?"

Hanabi slipped her feet into a pair of genuine leather, fire engine red heels. She stood and turned her body about as she assessed her reflection in the mirrored wall next to her. She briefly weighed whether or not she should answer Temari's question as it really was none of her concern. But then again, seeing as how her sister worked for her brother, she figured she was as good as involved anyway.

"Hinata moved away from home several years ago and has since proved incapable of being able to take care of herself. I mean, she's working as a _housekeeper_, for crying out loud!"

"Oh, how terrible," was Temari's sarcastic response.

Hanabi continued as if she hadn't noticed. "Yet, she refuses to return home where she can be properly cared for, despite my or our father's insistence that she do so." One professionally arched brow rose. "You would think she would understand that we're really only looking out for her best interest."

"Of course," Temari stated dryly. "And my brother factors into this how?"

Hanabi sighed. "Hinata hasn't always been, but she has recently grown more stubborn. She continues to ignore sound logic. She won't listen to anything I have to say, and she won't have anything to do with Daddy. So we needed something to happen to perhaps make her see our side of things."

"What you mean is," Temari concluded, as she quickly pieced the mystery together, "that if Hinata met some mishap, preferably while working for Gaara, she would be scared into returning home."

"Precisely," Hanabi beamed brightly. She resumed her seat. She removed the shoes and returned them to the line of shoes on the floor before her. "No doubt you must be the brains behind the Sabaku Oil Empire." _Because it sure as hell couldn't be that bone head brother of yours, Kankuro, _shethought and lifted a hand to her mouth in an attempt to prevent the chuckle that threatened to surface.

Temari slowly shook her head in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself right now? How crazy that sounds?" It appalled her that Hinata's own family would connive behind her own back in such a manner. It was no longer any wonder to Temari why Hinata left home when she did. "And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't factor my family into any more of your schemes. We are not your pawns. It's like I said, Hanabi, Hinata's an adult. She's capable of making her own decisions. And whatever they may be, my family and I will respect them."

Hanabi shrugged as if to say _whatever_. "Look, I realize it's not the ideal way to go about things, but surely the ends justify the means. I was more than certain that you of all people would understand."

"And why would I?"

"Because of the standing of both our families in society," Hanabi explained. "Surely you of all people know what it means to have to keep a tight leash on a wayward sibling. They're like loose cannons, Hinata and Gaara are, and if left alone there is no telling what damage they can do to our families' images."

Temari's breath caught. So Hanabi had drawn parallels between their families. Hanabi felt her plan to steer Hinata back home, where she could be "properly cared for", somehow equated to the manner in which Temari fought to keep Gaara out of the public eye. And for a brief moment, Temari wondered if there really had been any comparison. But no sooner had the thought come to her mind that she dismissed it. Sure, they may have had similar motives in keeping their families' names from being maligned in the media, but that was definitely where the similarities ended! Whereas Hanabi and her father only wanted to control Hinata, Temari did what she did for Gaara out of love. Well, out of pity, too, perhaps, but there was definitely no doubting she acted out love for her baby brother. She wasn't sure she could say the same for Hanabi.

"I really don't know what you're talking about. It's really early here, and I'd like to get back to sleep."

"Look, if you're going to play dumb about this, then whatever. But just be a doll, will you, and make sure my sister isn't met with any unnecessary harm." She wrinkled her nose despite Temari being unable to see it. "We'd really like to keep this out of the courts."

"We?"

"Daddy and I," Hanabi stated, as if it should have been obvious.

"I don't take kindly to threats."

Hanabi glanced at her watch. She'd grown bored with this conversation already. "Listen, I'm aware of your legal battle with your former housekeeper. Like _everything_ else about your brother, it's in the papers, too. So unless you want a legal battle on your hands the likes of which you Sabakus have never experienced before, you will heed my warning. And trust me when I say the Hyugas won't be so easily intimidated. We're not the small fry your housekeepers are. And if you don't believe me, then feel free to try us." Hanabi's eyes narrowed slyly as she concluded the call by clicking off. Returning her attention to the shoes, her face beamed with her decision.

"Excuse me?" She stated as she twisted in her seat, and the same clerk from earlier instantly reappeared at her beck and call. "I'll take them all!"

Temari angrily tossed her cell phone onto the bed. She glared at it before redirecting the full force of her heated gaze into the distance again. "That little bitch," she spat contemptuously.

Later that evening, Temari and Shikamaru drove round to Kankuro's place, a luxury apartment situated in a posh section of the city.

"I hate to say I told you so," Kankuro snorted. He exited his kitchen with a few cans of beer and a bowl full of chips.

"Then don't," was Temari's huffy response as she and Shikamaru each accepted and cracked open an ice cold can of beer. She rolled her eyes when Kankuro continued.

"Well, I did," he stated. He extended the bowl in Temari's direction. "Dinner?"

Temari chuckled as she shook her head. "Don't tell me you and Matsuri are on the fritz again?"

Kankuro extended the bowl to Shikamaru, who declined as well. He smirked as he plopped into a leather armchair that matched the sofa Temari sat on. His sigh was long and ragged. "Yeah, well, she's still pissed off about the prenup."

"You guys have been dating for like, what, five years? Living together for three? What did you expect? I'd be pissed, too." But Temari only shook her head when Kankuro responded with a shrug that indicated he didn't want to discuss it.

She knew the prenup itself hadn't been at the center of Kankuro and Matsuri's woes. She knew Kankuro was only using the prenup to hurt Matsuri in turn, as a result for her infidelity when she'd had a brief affair with their cousin, Sasori. It had been long ago, but apparently not long ago enough for Kankuro, who was still hurting over it. And to this day, his relationship with their cousin still hadn't been the same.

Temari watched as Kankuro shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and munched noisily. "Anyway, I knew it was a bad idea to hire that Hyuga woman," he managed.

"Hey, can I smoke in here?" Shikamaru asked, and Kankuro nodded.

Temari groaned aloud as she slumped wearily against the leather sofa. She took a generous swig of the beer and grimaced. "Just who the hell did she think she was talking to, anyway? I mean, what the hell, I was already learning the trade of my father's business when she was just starting to fill out her fucking training bra!" She lifted her head and glowered at Kankuro and Shikamaru when they both chuckled. "I'm serious, you guys," she sighed heavily, "and now this!"

"_This_," Kankuro reasoned, "really not being anything worth getting worked up over. I mean, not with the confidentiality contract in place and all." Kankuro's attention was alerted when Temari groaned and leaned back against the sofa again.

"Tem, I swear, you'd better not say what I think you're about to," he stated with a lowered voice. When Temari leaned forward again and pressed her face into her hands, he bit a curse. "What the fuck, Tem! You didn't get her to _sign_ one?" For lack of anything else to do to counter his shock, he immediately placed the bowl onto the coffee table, stood, and raked a hand through his hair. "Of all the _stupid_-," he started, but was cut off when Shikamaru intervened.

"Hey, hey," Shikamaru protested, "_easy_." His eyes were stern with warning as he fixed Kankuro with a steely gaze through a haze of smoke.

"Alright," Kankuro raised both his hands in a placatory manner. "Look, I'm sorry. Just," he sighed wearily, "just let me know what you want to do next."

Temari shook her head. "I really don't even know."

Kankuro fixed Temari beneath a steady gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, when's the last time you talked to Hinata? How's she doing?"

Temari lifted one hand and let it fall with a slap against her thigh. "The last I saw or heard from her was when I took her shopping, and that was over a week ago. I haven't spoken with her since." She shrugged. She was assured Hinata would have contacted her had the need arose. And seeing as how Hinata had yet to contact her about anything, she felt no need to interfere. After all, no news was good news, right?

"I can easily call the lawyers and have a contract drawn up like that," Kankuro stated with a snap of his fingers.

"No, I don't think so."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because it just seems… I don't' know…" Temari shook her head as if searching for the right word, "…_insulting_."

"You like her," Kankuro surmised. That had been why Temari hadn't wanted to get Hinata to sign the contract, because she had somehow taken a liking to Hinata.

"Okay, I like her. I don't doubt it. I mean, yes she's _mousy,_" she stressed at Kankuro, using his earlier description of her, "but she really comes off as a nice girl."

"That's because they all do, Tem, at least in the beginning, and they want something from you."

"But you see I don't believe that about Hinata. You've met her. She doesn't seem like the exploitive type. And there's all that shit between her and her family. I mean, could you even believe what Hanabi told me? It's like they're plotting her downfall. Who the hell does that to their own family?" And maybe there was some truth to that old adage, about family sometimes being your worst enemies? "So who knows? There really might not be anything to worry about after all."

"Look," Shikamaru interjected. It was the first time he spoke on the situation since they'd arrived. He leaned forward to flick the ashes of his cigarette in an ashtray that set on the coffee table before him. "I know I'm an outsider in all this, and that my two cents don't mean shit, but I knew Hinata. She's really not the type who'll run to the press or anything. She's not in it for the money. She can't be. First of all, there's the fact that she walked away from her family despite being worth billions and has been supporting herself as a housekeeper for the last seven years of her life. And all under an alias, mind you. So if that doesn't convince you, then, I don't know what will."

Kankuro listened to Shikamaru with narrowed eyes, his arms folded, pondering. He slowly nodded. Despite Temari and Shikamaru vouching for Hinata's character, he himself still wasn't sold on her yet. Sure, he thought Hinata sweet and innocent during their brief flight to Suna, when he had the chance to interact with her. And she definitely looked it, too, but since when had that been anything to go by? Looks were deceiving. It had been to his experience that even the most sweetest and innocent of individuals were often the ones you had to be weary of, for beneath their trusting exteriors beat the hearts of wolves. Matsuri taught him that.

"Yeah, well, let's hope you're both right," he stated. Because Sabaku Oil had her hands full enough already, what with dealing with all the environmentalists and other lobbyists who were ready to pounce on her at every turn with yet another environmentally hazardous claim. The very last thing the company needed right now was to be hit with a high profile lawsuit from the Hyugas.

"I'll have a talk with her anyway, just to be on the safe side, to get her take on things."

"Please do." Kankuro plopped back down into the armchair. Retrieving the bowl, he shoveled another handful of chips into his mouth.

And when Temari and Shikamaru left a little while later, Shikamaru shook his head. For the first time in his life, he was grateful that he had been an only child.

**A/N: I really do apologize for how long it's taken me to update. I was having a bit of an issue with my flash drive, but all is well. Enjoy, and sorry for the errors! **


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

True to her word, it was Temari who had given Hinata the news. Temari had wasted no time when she phoned Gaara that she had something urgent to discuss with Hinata face to face, and that it was important that he be present as well. And because Temari knew she would have to drive out to Gaara's home, she tersely told him, "And I know you're entertaining those damned friends of yours, you do it every year, so you'd better make sure they're not within eyesight of me when I get there because I'm not trying to see any crazy shit!"

Gaara had shrugged nonchalantly. He was clearly at a loss as to what Temari could possibly have to say to Hinata that he should be made privy to. And when he called Hinata into his study to relay Temari's message, even she had been uncertain as to whatever the matter could be about. What on earth could Temari possibly have to discuss with her? But when Temari had arrived that afternoon and relayed her entire phone conversation with Hanabi behind the closed doors of his study, both Gaara and Hinata were shocked into silence.

Gaara rose and came to stand at the window. He gazed out over the desert that stretched into the distance like vast and golden sea. The first rainfall of the season had begun. It was no more than a light drizzle now, but would eventually intensify into a steady shower. And it was so subtle as to be easily overlooked when the raindrops glistened in the sun's rays and resembled tiny sparkles of glitter.

So, okay, Hinata was a Hyuga. She was the daughter of Hiashi Hyuga at that, the millionaire hotelier who owned the very hotel he patronized whenever he traveled to Konoha. She was a born and bred heiress who, again according to the account Temari relayed, had walked away from her family's fortune to resume the lowly life of a poor housekeeper. And all beneath an alias at that! But why? Gaara wondered. What had transpired in her life to force her to make such a bizarre decision? Well, if nothing else, this new bit of information blew his theory of her being just another gold digger out of the water. He knew there was more to Hinata's story, but the question now was how had he felt in light of the revelation? His lips pressed into a straight line as he angled a narrowed glance over his shoulder to where Hinata sat motionless, her shoulders hunched as she stared at her folded hands. Her hair had fallen forward to curtain her face, concealing her features.

Truth be known, Gaara really wasn't all that surprised. In comparison to his former housekeepers – and quite possibly every woman he'd ever known – Hinata had impressed him as being cut from a different cloth. He remembered the intelligent questions she'd posed about Suna during the flight, the way she was set apart by her modest and polite mannerisms despite her penchant for drink. And what had led her to the bottle, anyway? He had believed she was trying to prove a point by remaining in Suna, and he still did, but ever more so now. And the hell if he didn't find out, because the enigma that was Hinata had only managed to deepen further still.

Hinata's eyes hadn't lifted from the paper on Gaara's desk that Temari had placed there. The confidentiality contract. A retractable pen lay next to it at the ready. Her lids drooped as she eventually raised her head and shifted her gaze to the rain outside. She had wanted badly to see desert rainfall, and now that she was being afforded the opportunity, the experience was made bittersweet by Temari's revelation. She had gone numb when Temari had relayed her conversation with Hanabi, and she may as well have had a mouth full of that desert sand outside, as dry as it had felt.

It was as Hinata expected, and the lead had been a set up after all. She remembered that morning when Hanabi came around to her apartment with it, and she had been hesitant to accept it at first. She'd had a feeling that it hadn't been presented to her out of goodwill, a premonition that she'd chosen to ignore because she'd been so desperate for the work at the time. If only she had gone with her gut instinct and had sent her sister away. Because even though her family's conniving ways wasn't new to her, it still hurt. Not to mention that it was also a new low, even for them. That her family would condescend to knowingly place her in a potentially harmful situation to realize their agenda was beyond anything she thought them capable of. It was just to her credit that Gaara hadn't proved to be a dangerous man, after all. Sure, he displayed deviant sexual behavior, but since she'd been employed at his residence, he didn't strike her as being someone she should necessarily fear.

And it was ironic, wasn't it? She had taken the job in the hopes that she could work towards her own independence, away from her family's influence, so as not to be manipulated by them, and here she'd been manipulated the whole time. They'd calculated on her applying for and accepting the job, and she did. She had played right into their hands!

"I promise you I had no idea about your family's little plan when your sister referred you to me, Hinata," Temari said. She occupied the chair behind Gaara's desk. Her arms and legs were crossed as she regarded Hinata closely behind her glasses. "I really am sorry."

"Don't b-be," Hinata assured. Her lips trembled as they pulled into a small smile that hadn't reached her sad eyes. One shoulder hunched. "I'm used t-to it, actually."

Temari sighed. It was difficult to watch Hinata, the way the tears had gathered in her pale eyes. Temari's voice softened as she continued. "I just need you to understand that I like you, Hinata. I really do. And I never got the impression that you were out to hurt Gaara, else I would have had you sign the confidentiality clause up front at the interview. But you have to understand my position. Gaara is my brother. He is my family, and I will protect my family at all costs."

Hinata nodded mutely. Of course she understood. She was about to respond as much when Gaara's answering machine had turned on. It was apparent by the surprised looks on all their faces that neither of them had heard the phone ring, and they were silent as they listened to the message that recorded.

"Gaara, it's me, Kankuro. Hey, good news, little bro! That housekeeper recanted her story. And even the paper is kissing our asses now, how about that? They want to run her retraction and everything! They asked for your comment, but I already declined for you. No sense dragging this shit out any more than it's already been, you know? So for now, you're a free man!" Kankuro chuckled aloud at that. And where he stood with his back turned to Temari and Hinata, the corner of Gaara's mouth had lifted into a wry smile. "And one more thing, Temari's supposed to contact you soon, and you've got to talk to her, man. It's about Hinata. Better be careful with that one. Apparently she's not who she says she is. Well, anyway, I have to run, so hit me up when you get this message, okay?"

The answering machine clicked off, and the silence that followed afterward was thick with a range of emotions from pity to utter embarrassment. Tears silently began to flow down Hinata's cheeks as she slowly leaned forward and took up the pen with a trembling hand.

"Where d-do I s-sign?"

Afterward, Hinata stood as Temari retrieved her pen. She watched as Temari slipped the contract into a protective, plastic sleeve covering before slipping it into her canvas tote.

"Don't misunderstand what just took place here," Temari said to Hinata as she stood in preparation to leave. "This is merely a protective measure in the event your family tries to take any legal action against us. This is by no means meant to be a termination of employment, nor do I want you to think that you have to quit and high tail it on the next flight out. If truth be told, I would appreciate it if you continued your employment with us, Gaara and me both."

Gaara had still been staring out of the window when Temari said that, and the flesh over eye arched upward as he continued to stare out over the stretch of desert. His breath caught as he awaited Hinata's response, and he was surprised to find that he had been anxious. Would Hinata want to leave Suna now?

"But it's your call, Hinata, regardless." Temari said. She stayed Gaara with a lift of her hand when he turned to escort her out. "No need, Gaara. If you don't mind, I'll have Hinata see me out."

At the entrance of the house, Hinata held the door open for Temari's exit, but started when Temari quickly gripped her arm and steered her outside on the threshold. Temari reached behind her and softly pulled the door closed.

"Now, I'm going to ask you a question," Temari said. "But before I do that, I want you to know that I won't accept anything other than the truth. Do you understand?" Hinata nodded. "So I ask. How have you been?"

Hinata turned her gaze toward the rainfall. They were protected from the rain beneath the high awning which was an extension of the flat adobe style roof supported by two long and thickly rounded columns on either side. Her expression was vacant as it shifted back to Temari. Temari's face had twisted into a slight grimace - her brows had knitted, her lips had pressed into a thin line - as if bracing herself for the whatever it was Hinata was about to say. And what had Temari wanted to hear? Judging by her expression, it surely wasn't the truth, was it? That the past week had been a sojourn into the world of dark pleasures that Hinata hadn't even known existed until now; that Gaara and his friends had delighted in shocking her, feeding off her unease it seemed. So no, Hinata was sure Temari hadn't wanted to know that. Rather, Hinata felt she understood why Temari was asking. Temari was ensuring Gaara's safety. Hadn't she so much as just said so herself that she would protect her family? Hinata was suddenly angered.

Yes, she understood Temari's position, didn't fault her that. Yet, she couldn't help feeling as if Temari was also somehow manipulating her, too. Because Temari had always known about her brother, hadn't she, and would always stand by him despite the truth about him. And the confidentiality contract, though meant as a safeguard against her family's threats, was somehow meant to keep Hinata in check as well.

Hinata suddenly regretted signing the contract, but quickly dismissed the sentiment. No, it was better that she had signed it so as to allay any doubts of her intentions. It just seemed as if everyone had an agenda of their own, and she was once again a pawn to be controlled. Would that she had had someone in her corner for once who didn't have some ulterior motive where she was concerned. But it hadn't mattered, because in the end she hadn't any other alternative. It wasn't as if she'd had her pick of jobs. And the pay had simply been too generous to pass up.

"Everything's f-fine, Temari. Couldn't be b-better."

Back in her room later that night, Hinata groaned with frustration when she realized she was out of alcohol again. She would have to remember to stock up on more during her next shopping trip into town. In the meantime, she would help herself to another one of Gaara's bottles in the cooler fridge like she'd been doing for the past week. The next bottle would make the fourth, but she allayed her guilt with her promise to replace them all.

Gaara had relieved her of her duty of making dinner that evening. She knew it was done in light of Temari's visit that afternoon, out of pity. She had even refused. She hadn't needed any favors, but he was adamant that she take the night off. And she relented in the end, silent with her gratitude as it had allowed her to seek refuge in her room again where she this time remained for the duration of the evening. There, she thought, slept, and then thought some more. She had even taken a brief shower in an effort to soothe her irritation, but it had been to no avail. And now that she had run out of drink, she stood the chance of becoming even more aggravated. And all she wanted to do now was forget. She wanted to drown her grievances in drink, to give them the damned night off as well.

Hinata slipped an oversized tee-shirt dress over her panties before she crossed into the kitchen. She didn't bother to turn on a light as the dim lighting within the glass-enclosed cooler fridge had proved sufficient. And opening it, she blindly selected the very first bottle her hand lighted upon. So long as it resulted in the desired outcome of getting her shit-faced drunk, she didn't give a damn about the label or the year.

"Couldn't sleep, either," a husky voice said.

Startled, Hinata fumbled the bottle as she nearly dropped it. She immediately reached to flick on the lights and blinked as the kitchen was instantly flooded with brightness. She whirled in the direction of the voice. When her eyes adjusted, it was to behold Konan sitting at the island. Sitting before her was a plate that was empty save for a few bites of food that Hinata recognized as the leftovers from the meal she had prepared the night before. And Konan was once again naked.

Konan chuckled. "I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you." She lifted a hand to gesture to another bar stool chair on the opposite side of the island. "Won't you join me?" She asked, and her smile was friendly.

Hinata's eyes quickly darted over her shoulder in the direction of her room. All she really wanted now was to hole up in bed with the bottle, but her sense of civility also kept her from wanting to appear rude. She reluctantly accepted Konan's invitation and took a seat on the chair. Her face burned with embarrassment as she avoided making eye contact.

"I'm sorry if I make you nervous," Konan said.

"Oh, n-no, it's f-fine," Hinata gushed, her face flaming even worse. Well, as fine as it can be, granted she was sitting across from a naked woman. And she couldn't understand her embarrassment. All this week she'd witnessed Konan naked and engaged in a myriad of detailed sexual explicitness.

"I realize it's difficult to recognize me," Konan said, "without my restraints."

The fact that Konan hadn't been bound in her restraints hadn't been nearly as shocking as the realization that this was the first time Hinata was actually hearing the other woman speak. Until now, the only sounds Hinata had ever heard from the woman were those of pleasure whenever Nagato and Yahiko had their way with her.

Hinata shyly looked up and watched as a corner of Konan's mouth had lifted in a wry grin. And when Konan winked at her, Hinata noted the humor in the other woman's golden gaze. Konan was joking with her.

Hinata's head lowered again. She would have liked to return Konan's smile, but it was difficult for her to do. An uncomfortable awkwardness crept up her spine. And it was just like before, when she couldn't resist and lifted her gaze to Konan's breasts.

Hinata's mind immediately drifted back to that day in the dungeon, when she had caught her first glimpse of Konan's nipples. They were just as erect now as they had been, too. Hinata wondered at the kind of lover Konan had shown herself to be. That she sat nude before her now was a testament to her confidence, that she was comfortable in herself, her sexuality. Judging by all that she had seen, Hinata found her to be the same way during sex: confident, comfortable, and bold, imbued with an ability to give as much pleasure as she received. And it was for the briefest of moments when jealousy instantly surged through Hinata with lightning speed, for Konan represented a side of womanhood and femininity that Hinata had longed to recognize in her own self, but never had been afforded the opportunity.

They were such opposites, Hinata thought. And though Konan spent her days in submission to Yahiko and Nagato's sexual ministrations, she bet that that was where the submission would end. Hinata was sure that if the shoe had been on the other foot, and Konan had been in her position, the golden-eyed beauty wouldn't have been manipulated the way Hinata had been. No, Konan would be in control. Hinata shook her head, unsure of how she made the correlation, unsure if she fully understood it herself. That Konan's life was one of 24/7 sexual acquiescence Hinata understood. She hadn't been forced. But what had shocked Hinata was the fact that Konan had been in full control.

It had dawned on her as she sat and witnessed their sex play beneath Gaara's watchful eye. She had initially believed Konan a degraded, unwilling participant who was forced to be subjected to the whims of Yahiko and Nagato, but Hinata soon came to see that it was the other way around. It was Yahiko and Konan who had acquiesced to Konan's whims. And Hinata had been fascinated.

There was one instance in particular that stood out in her mind, and Hinata was sure that years later down the line, when her employment with Gaara had ended and they were sure to part and go their separate ways, that same occurrence was sure to remain in her mind with alarming clarity.

It had been in the dungeon, after breakfast had been concluded. Hinata had just fed the cobalt-haired woman her daily liquid breakfast which had just been a variation of the smoothie Hinata had prepared before. Hinata had been shocked when, after Konan had finished and Hinata had dabbed the corner of her mouth, Konan had winked one golden eye in a gesture of gratitude. And when Hinata left to return the glass to the kitchen, her lips had pulled into a small and silent smile.

Gaara, Yahiko, and Nagato were already in the dungeon when Hinata returned, and she was escorted by Gaara to a chair at a distance. He then moved to stand directly behind her. During the _sessions_, as Hinata had come to term them, it came to be that Gaara had deigned to place his hands lightly upon her shoulders. He did so then, but Hinata had relented and even come to accept it as part of the occasion, almost ceremonial. Her lids had lowered in response to the heated feel of his hands where they lay, his fingers moving about in a slow and languid massage. Hinata's lids lifted, and she watched curiously as Nagato brought and placed a leather ottoman in the vicinity of the room. She redirected her gaze to where Nagato had escorted Konan with a hand on her shoulder to the ottoman, and Hinata was struck by the grandeur of the action, as if he escorted a member of a royal family. She watched as Nagato then gently assisted her as she lowered to her knees and proceeded to bend over the ottoman, making sure she faced Hinata and Gaara where they sat watching, witnessing. A private audience. Konan's arms were bound behind her back, the gag in place in her mouth. But this time, a chain was affixed to the back of the posture collar she wore, and that Yahiko had come to take hold of. He had been stripped naked himself, and was already aroused as evidenced by his erection as he came to stand over Konan, straddling her.

Hinata had watched as Yahiko gently pulled on the chain, and Konan's head lifted, her back arching inward to the ottoman. He crouched over her, so as to bring his mouth to her ear, and pressed a kiss against her temple. And Hinata had noticed the look in Konan's eyes, the same glossy, dazed look that Gaara had when he had looked at her the first time she had witnessed their sex play. But Hinata had remembered something else, also. As she watched Konan bent over the ottoman, her head brought back, she was reminded of that day back in Konoha in Gaara's penthouse suite, when he had spanked her, and she was bent over his dining table in a similar manner. And she gave a start and jumped in her seat when Yahiko released one hand from the chain, brought it back, and brought it forward to land against Konan's rear with a loud and smack that reverberated in the dungeon. Hinata's eyes quickly darted around the room in a gesture of discomfort. She squirmed in her seat as if she could feel what she knew was a stinging pain, because she had felt it, too, when Gaara had acted out on her in the same manner.

But what Hinata hadn't expected was Konan's reaction. While Hinata had remembered being brought to tears, Konan had only moaned aloud. Her lids had drifted shut. She had enjoyed it. And it was then when Hinata heard a familiar sound, a small clicking sound, that she had recognized from the first day she had met them. Konan had been sitting on Gaara's couch then, dressed in that long and flowing garment, and she had produced that sound, which had prompted Nagato to instantly respond to her need of divesting her of the garment.

Hinata's eyes had widened as she beheld the instrument responsible for the noise. She wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it before, except that she was perhaps simply too overcome with shock at the time. But just there, hooked around one thumb was a string connected to a castanet that she gripped in her palm. What the clicking of the castanet was to signify, Hinata was unsure, except to convey to Yahiko that he should continue, because after a brief pause he brought his hand back and delivered another similar blow. And they were in succession, one right after the other, until Konan produced another series of clicks in a pattern unlike the first, and Yahiko then stopped. He then passed the same hand over his mouth, generously coating it with his saliva, that he applied over the shaft of his penis and then over the area of her sphincter muscle. And then grabbing hold of his erection, he slowly guided it into that same orifice, gently pressing to the hilt, filling her completely. Konan's eyes had taken on a dreamy, faraway look as Yahiko's thrusts began slowly, his pace matched to the sounds of her moans; long, sensual, pleasurable. And it was almost like an erotic melody to Hinata's ears as she listened, and that she knew could never be duplicated by any instrument. Yahiko's pace quickened, the chain held fast in his hand. His other hand gripped the curve of one of Konan's hips. His breaths were measured and deep, his face twisted in concentration as he focused on Konan as he rode her mercilessly, her slender body rocking back and forth beneath his thrusts. And Hinata's reaction to the whole scene that unfolded before her widened eyes was twofold.

First, it dawned on her that what she witnessed could very well be the same thing Gaara had meant to do to her in her room that day of his guests' arrival, and he'd only succeeded in scaring her. But had she allowed him to continue, would she have enjoyed it the way Konan had? Secondly, and what was perhaps the biggest impression upon her, was the control Konan had wielded. By the use of that small instrument, she had acted as the ambassador of her own pleasure, dictating to Nagato when to proceed, how far to go, or when she'd had enough. Even when he'd painfully spanked her, it was because she had _wanted_ him to. And he had complied with her wishes. What an unexpected shift in power play, Hinata mused, and her opinion was forever altered from that day.

Her reverie was snapped when the sound of Konan's voice tore through the fabric of her thoughts. "I'm s-sorry?"

Konan's lips slowly spread into a smile beneath Hinata's gaze of intense scrutiny. "I said that's an excellent idea," she repeated, gesturing towards the bottle of wine Hinata clutched. "I'll get the glasses," she said as she rose to fetch two long-stemmed wine glasses and a wine bottle opener. It was then that Hinata noticed that Konan wasn't completely naked after all, her only article of clothing a pair of black, lace thong panties.

"One thing's for sure, you're definitely a better cook than his last housekeeper," Konan said as she returned to the island. She placed the glasses on the counter and reached out with one hand for the bottle of wine.

"Y-you met Mr. S-Sabaku's f-former housekeeper?" Hinata asked. She stifled her small sigh of disappointment as she relinquished her hold on the bottle.

One of Konan's brows arched with condemnation. She finally managed to open the bottle and poured Hinata's glass first. "I met them all," was her curt reply. She then poured her glass before resuming her seat. "This really is good." She heaped a forkful of food into her mouth and her lids momentarily lowered as she hunched her shoulders, savoring the taste.

"Thank y-you," Hinata offered from beneath her still lowered head. She politely waited until Konan swallowed before she spoke. She thought of what Konan said, about having met all of Gaara's former housekeepers. "Do you v-visit Mr. Sabaku often?"

Konan nodded. "Every year," she said and sipped her wine.

"Y-you must all be v-very close." She watched as Konan only stared at her. "I'm s-sorry, I r-realize it isn't any of my b-business."

"It's fine. To answer you, yes, we are all very close. But you've already seen that." Konan giggled when Hinata blushed. "You know, since I've met you, you've blushed more than I ever thought anyone capable."

"I'm s-sorry."

"Don't be. I actually think it's pretty. It's very intriguing. It makes me want to play with you." She winked one eye at Hinata.

"Oh…" Hinata sat ramrod straight in the chair. Her eyes suddenly rooted on her hands folded atop her thighs. She was suddenly at a loss for words. She wasn't sure as she hadn't had much experience, but was Konan flirting with her? She suddenly reached for her glass and took a huge, nervous gulp.

"No wonder Gaara finds you so captivating."

Captivating? Hinata's brows rose. Now, that was a bit much, wasn't it?

"Oh, I d-doubt that," Hinata said. She was sure he only saw her as employee.

Konan arched one brow. "A little hard on yourself, don't you think?"

"No, j-just r-realistic," Hinata responded. And she was being realistic about so many things now, she thought sadly.

"Or insecure." And Konan couldn't help but wonder what Hinata would think if she had known the truth, that save for the kiss Gaara had shared with her upon her arrival, he hadn't touched Konan once since. It was unusual for Gaara, who had shared Konan's bed before. But since Konan had visited Gaara, he hadn't so much as made another advance toward her. And Konan knew it had all to do with Hinata. She'd seen how Gaara looked at Hinata, with a look of such intense longing that Konan was sure she'd never witnessed before. And from the look of it, Hinata was unaware. How interesting.

Hinata's eyes boldly roved over Konan. What an exotic beauty that woman was! And yes, perhaps it was true, that Hinata was insecure. But someone like Konan would never understand. Konan, with her two lovers, while Hinata herself had yet to secure even one!

Konan watched as Hinata's eyes lowered to her hands in her lap again, her pale gaze troubled. "I don't mean to pry, but I can't help but think something's the matter. Want to talk about it?"

Hinata's hair had fallen on either side of her face like a veil, and Konan watched as it shimmered like an ebony waterfall as she shook her head. She watched as Hinata's mouth opened, closed, opened, then closed again, as if she was debating whether or not she should talk, whether or not she should invite her into her thoughts.

"Have…" Hinata's voice trailed off. She was silent for a moment before she began again. "Have y-you ever w-wanted to change? You know, to be d-different? Like… like maybe there was s-someone else you were m-meant to be?" Her head shyly ducked. "I know it sounds s-silly, b-but –"

"It doesn't sound silly at all," Konan answered. "And to answer your question, of course I have. And I did."

Hinata's head shot up. "How?" she asked anxiously.

Having swallowed the last of her food, Konan nudged the plate aside. She fixed Hinata beneath a steady gaze as she spoke. "What happened was that I realized that it was pointless for me to ever expect to change what I couldn't, and that I could only expect to change my own self." She shrugged. "The way I see it, circumstances are what they are, and they can't always be altered. But you have a choice. You can either allow yourself to become those circumstances and allow them to define you, or you can learn from them, take from them what you need in order to survive and press on."

Hence the change, Hinata thought. And she had so wanted to change. But it was like she realized before as well, that it was harder to realize than she had thought. Not impossible, just…difficult. An insurmountable feat. "What if… what if y-you r-realize it's harder to d-do than you think?"

Konan sighed. "I guess I've learned to adopt a rather tough love approach over the course of my life. I have since become a firm believer that it's only when a person truly wants something bad enough that he or she will do what it takes to achieve it." She shook her head. "No matter how damned difficult it is."

Though Konan wasn't sure what Hinata was specifically asking about, she knew it had all to do with Temari's visit that afternoon. She wouldn't admit what Gaara had shared with her, about the truth of Hinata's identity, her lineage. She had rolled her eyes when Gaara had mentioned Temari would be arriving. She and Temari had never really seen eye to eye. It wasn't that she disliked Temari, because she actually admired the woman's strong-willed character. Rather, Konan knew Temari regarded her as one of her brother's freak friends, and Konan in turn saw Temari as nothing more as an overprotective big sister with an unrealistic view of who Gaara was, or what he needed. And though she, Yahiko, and Nagato were no blood relation to Gaara, Konan had always felt they were as justified to identify themselves as Gaara's siblings just as Temari and Kankuro. After all, it was her, Yahiko, and Nagato that had grown up with him in the orphanage where they had met after Gaara's uncle had died, and he'd been placed there. And even when Gaara had been subsequently placed in one home after another, they had always managed to keep in touch. Gaara had understood them, and they him, and theirs was a bond that only managed to thicken with time.

Konan felt for the young heiress. And though the circumstances that surrounded her upbringing contrasted in comparison to Hinata's – Hinata had been raised in a world of privilege while Konan had been raised an impoverished orphan - she felt she could at least relate to the feeling of being vulnerable, defenseless, of being taken advantage of.

Konan watched as Hinata's brows slanted inward into a frown, pondering. Well, let her stew on what she had said while she got piss-assed drunk tonight, Konan thought, which she was sure was Hinata's original intention. Konan rose and proceeded to place her dishes in the sink. "Thank you for the night cap, Hinata. I enjoyed it. And the food really was good."

"You're w-welcome," Hinata said, her eyes following Konan as she prepared to go. "Oh!" Hinata exclaimed when, before she could react, Konan came up and gently slipped her hand beneath the heavy veil of Hinata's hair and grasped her at the back of her neck. She bent to lightly brush her lips across Hinata's in a feathery kiss. Hinata gasped at the contact and made a small sound of surprise when Konan briefly, boldly, intensified the kiss. It had been over before Hinata's mind could even register that it had actually happened, and then Konan stood smiling down into the shocked expressed in Hinata's face, her eyes round with shock, her lips forming a perfect "O". Konan's eyes dipped lower still, to the deep valley created between Hinata's breasts, at the way her nipples had hardened beneath the tee-shirt dress into twin peaks that protruded beneath the thin material. She moaned.

"Insecure indeed," Konan whispered before turning and heading out of the kitchen.

**A/N: Still with me? LOL! Bear with me a bit longer, please. The story is nearing its peak, and will begin its downward descent soon. I foresee about some thirty-odd chapters, but we'll see. **


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hanabi's hum was of no significant tune as she walked, her footsteps silent upon the plush carpeting in the hallway of Hyuga Hotel Corporation. Her eyes were focused mainly on the sender information of a small stack of mail she leafed through. She only deigned to open mail from senders of equal importance and interest to her. The rest would simply be tossed into the trash without even so much as an afterthought. Her tuneless hum momentarily halted when one small and thin envelope in particular caught her eye. She irritably sighed to find that it was addressed to Hinata. It had been several years since Hinata had lived at home, and that damned girl was still getting mail.

Nevertheless, Hanabi's interest was piqued, and she was careful not to mar her manicure as she slid one slender finger beneath the secured flap and forced it open. She pulled out a single card and read the neat type set. It was an invitation. Apparently, Konoha High School was having one of its class reunions for one of its past graduating senior classes that would be hosted at Choji's Bar-B-Q.

Hanabi's eyes rolled. She remembered Choji. Back then, he'd been some fat kid with a penchant for anything edible. She wondered if he was still fat. Probably was. She shrugged. Oh well, at least his gluttony had proved profitable.

She then breezed through the door that led to into the office of her father's personal secretary, but the young woman was nowhere to be found. Hanabi frowned. That meant she was only one other place, and her eyes hardened on the door near the secretary's desk that led into her father's main office. Hanabi crossed and paused before the double doors, fighting a wave of anger that always seemed to envelope her whenever she came near her father. Squaring her shoulders, she gulped what she could of her anger in a single swallow and pushed through the doors. And upon entering, she stopped in her tracks at the scene before her.

Her father, Hiashi Hyuga, sat in his office chair that had been turned to face the wall directly behind him. Hanabi was met with the sound of shuffling as Hiashi proceeded to right his clothing. She could hear the sound of his zipper being closed, the clink of his buckle as he refastened his belt. He then cleared his throat and languidly turned to face his daughter where she stood, and Hanabi could tell by his flushed countenance that he had been occupied.

"Hanabi," Hiashi greeted. His eyes were amused as his lips slowly spread to reveal a gleaming smile of even, white teeth. He straightened his tie as he leaned forward, clearly unperturbed at being caught in such a compromising position by his daughter. "I do believe you have met Miki," he said, gesturing with his arm to his latest secretary who awkwardly scrambled to her feet behind his office chair. The young woman's embarrassment at being discovered in such a position was clear as she fumbled to right her blouse. Her face was crimson as she slightly bowed her head toward Hanabi.

"You'll have to excuse us," Hiashi continued, as if nothing had been amiss, "but Miki was just taking my…" he purposefully paused "… _dic_tation."

Hanabi watched as her father chuckled, clearly amused by his own tasteless joke. Her eyes then shifted back to Miki, who looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any given moment. But Hanabi didn't feel sorry for Miki in the least. She had absolutely no respect for Miki, or for any of the other women who had come to work for her father in the past, and of them there had been many. They'd all been the same, a bunch of weak and spineless women. They had allowed themselves to be subjected to Hiashi Hyuga's sexual whims for no other reason than his standing in society. They all sickened her.

The corner of Hanabi's lip curled in a sneer as Miki made to scurry past Hanabi, unaware of the article of clothing she dropped in her haste. In a lady-like gesture, Hanabi demurely stooped at her knees and carefully slipped the edge of the invitation card she was holding into the arm loop of a scanty bra. She was careful not to physically touch it.

"You dropped this," Hanabi called, and Miki hastily turned to retrieve it. One of her arms draped over her bosom in mock modesty, her hand clutching together the edges of her still unbuttoned blouse. Hanabi almost groaned in disgust. "Let's see if you can manage to keep this on for the duration of the day, please," she reprimanded coldly. She waited until Miki vanished through the double doors before shifting her gaze back to her father.

"So what brings you by today?" Hiashi asked as he reclined in his chair. "Perhaps you come bearing news of your sister?"

Hanabi took a seat in one of the chairs opposite her father's desk. "That I do. It's actually what I came to talk to you about."

"So she's finally come to her senses and has agreed to come home, has she?"

"Well, not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Hiashi repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hinata's currently in Suna, Dad."

"Suna?" Hiashi's voice rose. "Well, what the hell is she doing there?"

Hanabi fought to keep her lips from spreading into a smile at his obvious disappointment. "She's currently there working as a live-in. But no worries, it's only 'til the spring, when the Sabakus are due to return to Konoha."

Hiashi's eyes narrowed as he silently mused. "Hmmm, and you're sure she's working for that Gaara?" Hanabi nodded, and his facial features then smoothed out. "Well, it's only a matter of time before he's scared her into her senses, that much we can count on."

And the fact that Hinata was in Suna really wasn't too much of a cause for alarm, Hiashi reasoned. For starters, the fact that she was out of Konoha played rather nicely into his scheme to keep her silenced. And should some unforeseen circumstance occur, the Sabakus be easily handled. As it was, their hands were already full dealing with Gaara's current exploits. They wouldn't want to chance any more negative publicity by battling with the Hyugas in court. It really was all a win-win situation, actually. Hiashi smiled.

Hanabi's eyes trailed her father as he rose and crossed over to large expanse of plate glass window and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Have you ever considered the possibility that she won't ever return?" She asked. "I mean, let's face it, Dad. It's been several years since she left home, and she hasn't once tried to come home since."

Hiashi's smile was sly as he gazed out over the skyline. "Oh, she'll return," he assured with a slow nod of his head. "She'll return because she'll realize the truth that she has nowhere else to go. Hinata isn't a woman of resources. She has no real money, no connections. Once she has fully acknowledged her limitations, she'll react accordingly." He then returned to his desk where he retrieved a small remote. He aimed it at a particular vicinity of one wall and pressed a button which activated a portion of the wall to turn and reveal a secret dry bar. "Care for a drink?" He offered but Hanabi shook her head.

Instead, she watched as Hiashi fixed himself a drink and neatly sipped before he continued. "As a businessman, I consider it good business sense on my part to not only always be cognizant of my strengths, but my weaknesses as well. And let's face it. Hinata, well…" Hiashi shook his head, "she's a liability. She's a debt that I've incurred from your mother and that I've been left to settle. You and I alone, Hanabi, know how much damage could be dealt our company's image if word about her was to ever get out. And she's so too much like your damn mother for me to ever expect to ever be able to hand the reigns of this company over to her." He neatly sipped his drink again before turning to fully assess Hanabi. "And I swear it's the one thing your mother did right when she gave birth to you, because you're more of an asset."

Hanabi straightened in her seat and fixed her father with a hardened stare. "I help to balance out the _debt _you incurred from Mother," Hanabi stated in a flat and emotionless tone in response to the blow he'd just dealt her in the form of an offhanded compliment.

"Exactly," Hiashi agreed. He gestured toward her with his glass. "I knew you'd understand. But seeing as how you take after me, it's no surprise really." He winked as he came to perch on the corner of the desk in front of her. "It's also why I have decided to declare you the heiress. After me, it is you who will be next in line to assume control of the Hyuga Empire, Hanabi." He lifted his drink in salute. "Congratulations!"

Until her father had uttered his decision to name her the new designee of the Hyuga Empire, it was all she could do to take even breaths to reign her mounting anger at hearing him tarnish both her mother's and her sister's persons. But now, it was all she could do to manage a deep breath to mask her momentary shock. Her controlled expression was level as she stared back at her father, at the way the corners of his mouth pulled back into a devastatingly handsome grin that had charmed many a female. She then mentally shook herself back to her senses. "I…I don't know what to say." And it hadn't been untrue, for she was truly shocked.

Hiashi smiled as he rose to clasp a hand on her shoulder. "You needn't say anything. You've more than proven yourself, Hanabi, and I'm proud of you for that." He then dipped his head back as he slowly, neatly – always neatly - drained the rest of his glass.

Hanabi schooled her features into a wide grin that she often used to fool her father. "Thank you, Dad. Really, you have no idea what this means to me."

It was true that if either of Hiashi's daughters could be credited with being anything like him, it would be Hanabi. Growing up, Hiashi often credited her strength as being handed down from his end of the gene pool. And while that may have been true to a certain extent, Hanabi was always possessed the utmost respect for her mother, for it was her womb that bore her.

Hanabi was aware of how her parents' union came about, that their marriage was arranged. Her mother had once revealed to her that she and Hiashi had been polar opposites, a testimony that Hanabi had bore witness to over the years growing up in the Hyuga household. Hanabi's mother often blamed herself for what she termed her failed marriage, that it was due to her weakness that Hiashi often found such fault with her. And it was with a heavy heart that Hanabi watched her mother tirelessly toil beneath an impenetrable veil of unhappiness to raise her and Hinata, to maintain some semblance of happiness and structure for her two daughters that she loved more than anyone or anything else. Even when Hiashi's infidelity had been revealed, Hanabi's mother had turned a deaf ear to the accusations and instead focused her energies on raising her daughters with tunnel vision. That was, until her suicide.

But Hanabi's feelings towards her mother were dual. While she always loved and respected her mother, and valued her relationship with her, another part of her was angered at her mother for not having stood up to Hiashi. She could never understand why her mother never fought back, or why she simply never packed up her and Hinata and left. And then there had been her drinking, which only managed to exacerbate everything that was already wrong with their family.

But what had hurt her more than anything was when Hinata eventually succumbed to the drink like their mother had. And it was like déjà vu when she had last gone to Hinata's rinky-dink apartment and found the stack of empty alcohol bottles in the garbage can. Hinata would never admit she had a problem with alcohol, but Hanabi often prayed her sister would eventually succeed in kicking the habit. Hanabi's fear of losing Hinata was one she had never let on to anyone, not even Hinata herself. Because Hinata was so much like their kind and gentle mother, Hanabi often felt Hinata was the only tangible, living and breathing thing she had left of their mother's memory. And the mere thought of not having Hinata in her life was too much for Hanabi to bear, which was why she had decided earlier on that she would fight back for herself, Hinata, and their mother. It had taken her a while to outline her strategy, but once she had she wasted no time upon her course of action to see her plan manifested.

Hanabi would take over the company from their father, Hiashi Hyuga.

Hiashi was often credited for the Hyuga Hotel Corporation's success, but what many were unaware of was that Hanabi's mother had been the primary, integral factor of that achievement. Upon research Hanabi had found that, in its infancy, the Hyuga Hotel Corporation was a handful of fledgling small business hotels that were nowhere near achieving the status the Hyuga Hotels currently boasted of. Hanabi was further shocked to find that her mother had been a college graduate who majored in hotel management, and that it was her comprehensive and high-quality business plan that detailed the direction of the company that more than quadrupled the hotels' earnings, thus birthing the multi-million industry that was Hyuga Hotel Corporation of today.

It was also these findings that encouraged her to act upon another aspect of her plan, which was to steer Hinata back home. She pretended to side with Hiashi's reasoning for bringing Hinata back home, but in reality she had her own reasons for wanting Hinata to return, which was to get her to accept her proper place as the next in line to inherit the Hyuga Empire. And she had meant it when she told Temari that she would take the Sabakus to court should any harm come to Hinata. Though Hanabi hadn't cared very much for her father, she wasn't above using his influence to her favor, either. She was aware it was a less than honorable move, but no one ever said that life was fair anyway. And the way she saw it, she was simply playing the shitty hand she'd been dealt.

Hanabi was aware of Hinata's feelings of wanting no part in the business, but she couldn't help but feel Hinata only felt that way as a result of the overbearing manner in which their father often manipulated her. And though Hanabi knew she was also guilty of the same domineering behavior, she knew there was no other way to make Hinata see her side of things. As it was, Hinata would never so much as even hear anything Hanabi said, and that had been so unfortunate. Because the way Hanabi saw it, she and Hinata owed it to their mother to keep her legacy alive. They were both their mother's daughters as much as they were Hiashi's, which meant the Hyuga Hotel Corporation, as such, was _both _their legacies. So there was no way Hanabi would ever Hiashi's bold move of stripping Hinata of her birth right.

After Hanabi was later excused from her meeting with her father, she was grateful for the cool wind that blew as they eased her tension. She momentarily paused to think and was so lost in thought that she gasped when a gust of wind forcefully blew and tore from the loose clutch of her hand Hinata's invitation that she had forgotten she still held. She watched helplessly as it caught on the wind and blew further away.

"Would you like me to get that for you, Miss Hyuga?"

Hanabi's gaze snapped with recognition to her chauffeur as he immediately appeared at her side. She sighed. "No, it's fine," she assured and allowed herself to be ushered into the back seat of the car.

As the car finally proceeded along the road, Hanabi's eyes gazed wistfully out of the window in the direction the wind had blown the invitation. Her mind was full of thoughts of her sister. "Please be alright, Hinata, and come back home," she silently prayed, because in the end, it didn't matter if she only succeeded in gaining control of the company. Without Hinata safely back home, such success would only amount to a wasted effort.

**A/N: Sorry for the errors! **


End file.
